The Haunting of Peter Newkirk
by Sierra Sutherwinds
Summary: Featuring Spike & Dru from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Newkirk becomes the target of feuding forces of darkness in the quest for the weapon that could change the course of the war for good or evil, and in the process he may lose his reason or his life.
1. Double, double toil and trouble

_**Disclaimers: I don't own Hogan's Heroes... Spike and Drusilla are property of Josh Whedon's universe.**_

_**I don't believe in magic, bad luck or anything paranormal. This is a story with entertainment purposes only.  
**_

_**NOTES of the AUTHOR:** This is a HH story with guest stars from Buffy TVS. You can call it a crossover, but I'd rather present it here in my comfort zone than adventure it into terra incognita... _

_Although there are references to my previous story, I think you can enjoy it without having reading that one._

_Spike and Drusilla are from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If you're not familiarized with the show, it doesn't matter. Since we're in the 1940's there is no chance for these vampires to make any reference to the characters or situations of the show (they aren't born yet.) Just for fun, you may want to look for pictures in the internet. Spike and Dru are a very cute couple, and still quite popular. The best Buffy episodes to meet these characters would be School Hard (season 2, episode 3) or Fool for Love (season 5 episode 7)  
_

_These vampires are pre-pre- Twilight, which means that they're more like conventional vampires. No reflection in the mirror, no soul, can't walk at broad daylight without bursting in flames, and die by a stake through the heart. They burst into dust. However, their very strong and resilient.  
_

_Although their origins will be revisited throughout the story, you may like to know that Drusilla is Spike's Sire (maker) and lover and she's utterly crazy. Her powers go beyond being a vampire. She reads minds, hypnotizes people, and sees the future in the tarot cards. Spike doesn't have extra powers. He's the master of disaster, too impulsive to carry on his own plans. He's British and with a very colorful vocabulary. Please don't get offended , that's how he talks, really LOL  
_

_**I hope this long introduction would not chase away the readers. :)**_

_**One more thing: the titles of the chapters are from a well known Shakespearean play which name can't be pronounced because is bad luck... Oh, well since this is a story about bad luck, who cares? the play is Macbeth.**_

**_And the story begins here..._**

_**THE HAUNTING OF PETER NEWKIRK**_

_by_

_Sierra Sutherwinds_

_**1.**__** Double, double toil and trouble**_

"_Bonjour, Guillaume. As-tu bien déjeuné?... Bonjour, Guillaume. As-tu bien déjeuné?_..."

Spike sat up as straight as he could and rubbed the back of his neck. "Dru..." he called softly once and twice. At the third time, his voice had reached its loudest level. "Drusilla, stop it. It's not a good morning, and no, I haven't had my bloody breakfast yet."

Drusilla turned to look at him with surprise. "Sweet Spike, you're awake!"

"Of course I am. Who were you singing to, then?"

He knew that she would not answer to his question directly . One thing that he had learned throughout the years with Drusilla was that she never kept a two-way conversation for more than two sentences in a row. He could keep trying, though.

"That shadow over there," she pointed at one corner in front of her. "Herr Kohler, the owner of the castle. He's very angry with all the people that have invaded his home."

"Did you tell Herr Kohler that he's been dead for over two hundred years?" He got up and stretched. He had to rub his temple to ease the dizziness. "Bloody hell. What did they feed those people with? I feel like I drank a bottle of vodka all by myself."

"Arsenic," Drusilla licked her lips. "I slept like une petite bebé."

"Drugging our food? Buggers! Wait till we get out of here, I'll teach them to mess with William the Bloody!" He went to the door and tried the knob. An electric charge threw him across the room.

Drusilla clapped and laughed. "My poor little Willie. The door has a spell on it, didn't I tell you?"

"No, but that's all right, I didn't ask," Spike said, getting up again. He looked around at their prison. Brick walls, water filtration everywhere... The suitable dungeon to end your mortal years, but not to spend the rest of your immortality. "I wonder what those wankers want from us anyway?"

Drusilla spread her tarot cards on the ground and shrugged. "Moscow for Christmas."

"Moscow? Really? Have they gone mad?" He crouched beside his girlfriend.

"Surely they are. Moscow is awfully cold this time of the year." She threw another card. "Oh, my! The uninvited guest! Will they pay him with cupcakes?"

Spike waited until Drusilla turned to him. "But what about us, Dru? Do your cards know?"

She giggled. "An egg."

"An egg? What do they think we are, hens?" He chuckled. "No wonder they're gonna lose this bloody war!"

"Shh," she said. "I told you that as a secret. They don't know that yet."

"Whatever you say, luv." He shook his head. "I still don't get what we have to do with Moscow and laying eggs."

"What?" Drusilla lifted her head to the wall. "Herr Kohler says that our questions will be answered in a minute... Someone is walking that aisle..." She turned to the door and it opened immediately.

A Gestapo officer came in followed by a scared soldier. Spike could have jumped over him before the boy knew what was going on. However, the officer would not look so self assured if they were unprotected. Drusilla stood up and stretched her hand. Spike just placed himself near her and sneered.

"Captain Grunwald, at your service," the officer said, kissing Drusilla's hand. "I hope you're enjoying our hospitality."

"Enchantée. The three of us are having a ball," Drusilla smiled.

"The three of you?"

"Sure, Dru, me and the ghost of Herr Kohl over there." Spike shrugged. "By the way, he's not too happy with you taking over his home, right, luv? Don't be surprised if someone comes at night and pull your feet or something."

Captain Grunwald tried to smile politely. He had been studying the vampire mythology but this was his first encounter. He only hoped that his research would be enough to protect him.

"Yes, Dietrich says that you're not a good person. Si vous ne quittez pas bientôt, il va vous casser la tête." Drusilla turned to the dark corner and nodded.

"A ghost is going to break my head if I don't leave this place?" The captain laughed. "I didn't know she was French?"

"She isn't, but she drank a French actress before we left Paris, so she thinks she speaks French," Spike sighed. "Let it go, Dru. We're not in France anymore."

"Enough! You will cease causing distraction right now." Captain Grunwald had too many things to do to waste time arguing with vampires. "You've been brought here to cooperate with the Third Reich. The better you do it, the sooner you'll get out of here."

"Oh, is that it?" Spike smirked. "You expect us to cooperate with your filthy plans for taking over the world just like that?" He tilted his head and crossed his arms. "We could do it if the price is right."

"The price is quite right, William." Grunwald smiled. "How about your beautiful girlfriend over here?" He waited to see the puzzle look on the vampire's face before going on. "We'll keep Drusilla in the castle while you get something for us."

"Don't tell me that you're actually looking for an egg?" Spike laughed. "There are plenty at the local market."

"I'm pleased to see that my seers were not mistaken about your foreseeing powers, Fraulein Drusilla. We're not talking about a real egg, William," Grunwald said. "Have you ever heard about the Faberge Collection?"

"Oh, Spike!" Drusilla's eyes glowed with excitement. "The Faberge eggs, remember that night in Paris? We went to the museum and ate the guard..."

"Forget about Paris, luv," Spike told her. "All right, Captain, are you asking me to steal the whole collection. Must be hundreds of eggs."

"No more than a hundred survive... all sizes and shapes... weights and colors..." Drusilla smiled. "Can you bring me one too?"

"Drusilla, please," Spike walked a couple of steps and turned to the captain with his hands on his hips. "So? Which egg do you want?"

"The one with a golden swan on the top." The captain prepared for Spike's reaction.

"Blimey. Of all those eggs?" He chuckled. "You want to die young, don't you?"

Drusilla stared at him with her eyes wide open. "You can't have that egg. It would crumble the entire world like Humpty Dumpty. All the king's horses, all the king's men-"

"Yeah, that describes very well what would happen." Spike shook his head and grinned. "Your brains will blow off your head just trying to find that bloody little thing... Come to think about it, that's something I'd pay to see. But it won't stop with you. Once it's open, no one can do much to calm it down, you know?" He stepped forward and the guard behind the captain took out a crucifix. Spike slowed down and shrugged. "A bloody Apocalypse is what you're asking for. Are you prepared to control all that power?"

"That doesn't have to concern you. We only need that egg and that's why you're here." Grunwald placed himself in front of Drusilla.

"What do you want from us? To find out where the egg is? Steal it for you and your deranged purposes?" Spike tilted his head. "What if we refuse?"

"We have a good idea where it might be. What we need is a thief to get it for us."

"A thief? I haven't done that kind of work in ages."

"Not you, Spike," Drusilla said staring at the captain in the eyes. "The egg is in hallowed ground. Unreachable for creatures like us..." She smiled. "They need a thief... a mortal... Someone with drive... someone who would not yield before adversity."

"That's poetic," said Spike with a shrug. "But why us? You must be surrounded by thieves."

"We are; and we used them. But it doesn't work like that. There are other forces committed to stop us. Our thieves don't have the strength or, as your girlfriend has put it, the drive to carry on with the mission. Seven times we've been close, seven men we have lost. They have gotten close but the clues and hints change all the time." He stared at Drusilla. "You can find that special thief. The one that can pass through the trials and survive."

"A human being, a thief with drive... Good luck. We're out of here, come on Dru."

"You can't leave. You're my prisoners."

Drusilla did not move when Spike grabbed her the arm. She looked up at him and smiled. "I don't want to leave."

"What? Don't tell me that you want that egg too."

"No... I want to find the thief who won't yield."

"Oh, no, Dru, I'm not going through that anymore." Spike glared.

"It's not the same thing... He's alive, and he's not a demon..." She grinned and caressed his cheek. "Come on, Spike... I just want to play."

"Well, you'll play alone. Because I'm out of here now." He turned to the door. The soldiers moved aside and he laughed. "Master Race, get stuffed." He walked to the door and an invisible force threw him against the opposite wall. "Bloody hell. What did you put on that door?"

Grunwald laughed. "Do you think I'm stupid enough to get myself two of the members of the Scourge of Europe without taking any precautions?" He opened his coat to show them the small bottle he kept in his inner pocket. Then, he took out a crucifix. "I went to a seer for advise. He set a small spell on this cell among other things I won't give away just yet."

"Sure, that can wait till I begin to pierce your brains with a railroad spike. Bloody wanker!" Spike stepped forward. "And how in hell do you think we're gonna do what you want if we can't get out of here?"

"Can't you figure it out?" Grunwald grinned knowing that he had them exactly where he wanted. "Miss Drusilla will stay here until you come back with some results. If you decide to fly away, so to speak, she will sleep upstairs in a beautiful room with a view to the east, no curtains whatsoever."

"I'd love to see the sunrise... But only inside my head," Drusilla sat on the only cot and sighed.

"This is ridiculous! That egg has been lost for over a hundred years. It's not even included in the original collection. It's a legend, it may not exist at all."

"That's what they say about vampires, isn't it?" Grunwald smiled. "And it's not been a hundred years. You just bring me the thief."

Spike snorted. "I may have a great reputation, but being a vampire doesn't make me invincible. That egg has a dangerous tag. Dark forces must be working extra hours to stop anyone from getting near that egg."

"Oh, I know about the witch and her horsemen. That's why we looked for you and your girlfriend. The Seer in Nuremberg told us about Drusilla's precious powers and your indomitable determination. Everything has been carefully planned." He pointed at Drusilla's deck of cards. "Fraulein, if you please."

Drusilla held her tarot cards against her chest. "This is so exciting..." She took one of the cards and put her over her forehead. "_The Enchanter of Delusion_."

"Dru? You don't have to work for them. They can't-"

"Quiet! We just need a name. Who is this Enchanter of Delusion? Do you know where he lives?" The captain dared to step forward.

Drusilla studied the card and smelled it. "England... Stepney..."

"That doesn't work for us. We need one closer than that." The captain paced back and forth. "Isn't there a thief near here at all?"

"I told you... The Enchanter of Delusion," she shrugged. "is from England, currently living near Hammelburg."

"That's about three hours from here, you'll have plenty of time if you leave now."

"Not so fast, I'm not leaving my girlfriend here unprotected." Spike crossed his arms in a defiant way.

"Nice try. I know she's stronger than you." Grunwald took out several objects. "These measures are rather to defend ourselves. The gates have silver nails and the castle is surrounded by water..."

"All right, I get it." Spike shook his head. "Someone writes a book about vampires and everybody thinks they know everything." He sighed and turned to Drusilla. "Oh, well. Is there any other thing I should know about this Enchanter of Delusion? You wouldn't happen to have a picture of him or something."

Drusilla shook her head. "He wears glasses, mittens and a beautiful red shawl."

"Our thief is an old lady?" Captain Grunwald was puzzled.

Drusilla grinned and shrugged. Thunder clapped outside and made Spike turn his head to the small window on the wall.

"Don't say more, Dru. I think Dark Midnight was here."

"Are you going to help us then?" Grunwald grinned.

"I'm not helping you. I'll be back with your bloody egg and you'd better take good care of Drusilla. Because if anything happens to her, I'll rip your heart off your chest while you're still alive. There will be no holly water or crucifix that can stop me."

()o()o()

_**Somewhere near Hammelburg, the same night...**_

Newkirk sat on the ground with his back against a tombstone. After half an hour around crosses and graves, the cemetery was not longer that scary. There was no breeze, nothing moved. The night was still and dark. He longed for a cigarette, but the smoke and the smell could attract unwanted attention.

"What time is it?" LeBeau asked. He rubbed his arms and shuddered. "Cet endroit me donne la chair de poule."

"Yeah, there is something about midnight in a cemetery that unleashes your imagination." Kinch crouched down and looked around. "Our contact must be here within the next ten minutes or we will go back." All dressed in black, he could not see his friends. He squinted but it was hard to see beyond where they were sitting. "Newkirk, how're you doing, buddy?"

_Another direct question_, Newkirk thought. He loved his friends, they meant well, but they only wanted to hear the same answer. He nodded. "Back on the saddle, mate. Doing great."

"Oui, it's good to have you back. We need to crack more safes and open more locks. I was getting bored with only explosives and sabotage," LeBeau said.

"Can't wait for things go back to normal." Newkirk smiled shyly. There was no lie in that one.

"You still have to take it easy," Kinch said. "Just take your time to heal."

A little noise from their right alerted them. The three of them turned at the same time with their pistols ready.

A short man came from the shadows. He was visibly agitated. When he finally saw Kinch, his expression changed from fear to extreme happiness.

"Are you the Owl?" the man said.

"And you must be the Pussy-Cat." Kinch smiled when he nodded.

"Hello, Pussy-Cat," Newkirk grinned and turned to LeBeau. "I was dying to say that."

"Sorry I'm late, but I think I've been watched." He looked around and clenched his scarf against his neck. "My name is Lothar Dresner."

"What do you mean? Did you see anyone?" LeBeau said with concern.

"No, but I know that someone has been following me." He turned to Kinch. "This is the worst night to come out, a wicked night..."

"You don't believe in those things do you?" Newkirk grinned.

"Evil is on the loose, my friends," Dresner said.

The Frenchman opened his eyes wide and Newkirk frowned. Kinch had to stop the chatting before the man got his friends hooked. "You have the message?"

"Oh, yes," the man said crouching down along with the three of them.

Newkirk was as attentive as his companions when a breeze whispered in his ear.

He turned around quickly but there was nothing to see. He nudged LeBeau. "What is it?" he whispered.

"What is what?" LeBeau whispered back.

"You said something."

"_You_ said something," LeBeau frowned.

"Well stop it!"

"You two stop it!" Kinch yelled in whispers. He went back to Dresner. "Sorry about that, you were saying?"

"My contact from the Romanian underground didn't give me many details but it seems there is a new weapon in development."

"What kind of weapon?" Newkirk asked, trying to pay attention.

"She didn't say. Something that will turn the tables on the Russian Front."

This time, Newkirk felt a cold breath on his neck and heard a piercing cry coming from the graves. He sprung up.

"Newkirk!" LeBeau pulled his sleeve.

The Englishman yanked it out and looked around. He strained his eyes in the dark and a shadow rushed through the tombstones in front of him. "Blimey! Did you see that?"

LeBeau stood up. Kinch followed their eyes' direction with his gun in his hand. Lothar Dresner began to shake. He slowly slid behind the sergeant.

"What is it?" he asked.

Kinch stared in silence for several minutes. "I see nothing. LeBeau?"

"Rien de rien." He punched Newkirk's arm. "You're seeing things now?"

"She was right there, I swear," Newkirk said, rubbing his arm.

"She?" LeBeau arched one eyebrow. He turned to Kinch. "Now he's dreaming awake."

Kinch rolled his eyes. He tucked his pistol in his belt and turned to their contact. "I'm sorry, Herr Dresner. Do we have anything else to discuss?"

"Yes, in order to put this weapon to work, the Germans are looking for some kind of gem or something. They have been looking in galleries and museums, even churches. We need you stay put in case that we discover the location."

"Sounds weird. It must be in code." Kinch shrugged. "All right. We'll keep our eyes open. Thanks." He waited for the man to be gone before turning to his friends. "What the hell was that? My little nephews behave better when we go out for ice-cream."

"He started it," LeBeau said.

"Sod off!" Newkirk hissed back. He walked towards the darkness and squinted. The soft breeze moaned in his ears again and he shuddered. He lost his balance but did not fall.

"Hey, what's wrong now?" Kinch came closer and clapped his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Newkirk closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm just tired," he whispered.

LeBeau touched his arm. "It's okay, I'm sorry I got mad at you. Do you want to sit down for a moment?"

The silhouette fleeted by like a cloud and Newkirk stepped back. "Oh, no... I just want to go back, if you don't mind... It's so cold all of a sudden..."

Kinch could see LeBeau getting more attentive to the darkness in front of them. The sergeant himself could not help but stare at the old graves and wonder what could be hiding behind them. If Newkirk's intention had been to scare his friends, he could not have done a better job.

LeBeau led the way while Kinch walked behind. They had not seen or heard anything but they did not want to take chances anyway. They walked fast, not turning back and the road to camp was longer than they thought.

tbc

* * *

_It's a bit abstract yet? I know. It's going smoothly from here, more or less. I'll explain other things later so you don't get lost._

_I hope this first chapter has interested you to keep on reading._

_Reviews are vital at these stages, don't be shy..._

_As always, thank you for your patience. I hope that the grammar mistakes are few ;)  
_


	2. Something wicked this way comes

_Thank you for putting this story in your alerts, it means you're very enthusiastic and eager to know what's going next. As I always say, I hope it won't disappoint anyone. _

_Okay, as I said before, this story is happening weeks after **The Man who Shot Anton Havel**, and it makes references to it. But it doesn't mean that you've got to read that one to understand this one. If it comes confusing at any time, just let me know and I'll clarify the facts for you. ;)_

_One more thing, I don't believe in magic or bad luck whatsoever, the facts presented in this story are for fun and pure entertainment only._

_The French texts are translated (accurately enough, I hope) at the end of the chapter... This is a man's barrack, so please excuse LeBeau's French LOL._

_

* * *

_

_**2**_**_._** _**Something wicked this way comes...**_

The witch stirred her brew in a big fat, magic pot. The thunderstorm swept the field sending Felix, Barrack 2's pet mouse, chattering to his grass nest. The wind blowing between the branches sounded like someone sobbing. The night was less than peaceful.

Newkirk's tossing and turning ended by waking up his lower bunk fellow. Carter sat up and knocked softly on the boards above him.

"Newkirk? Are you all right?" he whispered.

The corporal sighed patiently. He had been enduring the same question for weeks after he was seriously wounded during their last mission. At first, his friends' concern had been touching but later on, it had become simply annoying. What if he told the truth and said no? Would they stop asking stupid questions?

Nobody wanted to hear the truth... "Of course I'm all right. How else could I be?" He lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall. "Can't sleep, that's all."

"It's the wind, very weird this time of the year," Carter said.

"Didn't ask for the ruddy weather report, Andrew. It's not the wind." It took him one second to understand he had been unnecessarily rude. "I'm sorry... Maybe it's the wind all right."

Carter kept quiet for a while. "Are you thinking of the ghost you saw at the cemetery?"

"Who says I saw a ghost?" Newkirk frowned. "Oh, all right. Whatever Kinch and LeBeau told you, it didn't happen like that. I didn't say I saw a ghost."

"It's okay, Newkirk, I've had my own stories about ghosts. Back in my hometown-"

"Carter, I did not see a bloody ghost!"

At that moment, there was a dragging sound as something scratched the walls of the barrack. Newkirk stopped talking and listened attentively. The noise ran above the ceiling and the windows as though someone or something were looking for a way to enter. It stopped at the door with a sound like sniffing.

"Newkirk?" Carter's voice was weaken.

"It's the ruddy wind," Newkirk tried to sound convincing. The sniffing continued up and down the door. "D'you wanna come upstairs for a while?"

"Glad to," Carter said climbing up to sit next to Newkirk. Both men kept staring at the door. "One of the dogs got loose maybe."

"Yeah, maybe." Newkirk answered absently with his eyes on the line of light between the door and the floor. Then, the door handle began to move. "Blimey," he whispered.

Carter found it difficult to keep his breathing under control. He had to clench his teeth to stop them from chattering. Newkirk forgot the cigarette in his hand and it burned his fingers. He tossed it on the floor only to see that his hands were shaking. The scratching sound continued to increase until a strong bang coming from the opposite side stopped the noises altogether. Carter and Newkirk jumped and screamed together.

Almost at the same time, another scream answered from under LeBeau's bunk. The Frenchman jumped down and ran to switch the lights on. Still dazzled by the sudden brightness, Newkirk turned to see what had made that last noise. Kinch was just coming up from the tunnel with one hand over his heart.

"What the-!" the sergeant yelled. "You scared the hell out of me! What's with you two guys?"

Carter was still recovering his color when he climbed down. "Boy, did we scare you? What was the idea of making those noises in the dark, Kinch?"

"Me? I've just come up here. I don't know what you're talking about." He was holding a piece of paper in his hand as he walked towards Hogan's office. "I'm getting tired of your little pranks, guys."

"What bleeding pranks? Something was out there, didn't you hear it?" Newkirk looked for another cigarette.

"Is this part of the same game at the cemetery, Newkirk? It's not funny anymore." LeBeau climbed up to his bed and lied down. "Someone turn off the lights once and for all. Il est impossible dormir dans cet lieu de merde*!"

Kinch waited for everybody to be back on their bunks before turning off the lights. He shook his head and knocked on Hogan's door.

Newkirk sat up again trying to figure out why odd things had begun to happen all of a sudden. Fortunately for him, he did not actually believe in those things. Otherwise, he would be really scared.

()o()o()

Hogan was on his bunk, doing some reading before going to sleep. He heard the knocking at his door and Kinch coming in.

"What's all that noise out there?" He said climbing down.

"Newkirk and Carter starting Halloween celebrations early this year." Kinch sat at the table.

"At this hour?" Hogan chuckled. "I'm glad Newkirk's feeling better but this is a little irregular. Don't you think?"

"I don't know what's with him lately. But I suppose it's just all that time off he's been having," Kinch said. "Let's hope he puts his head on more important things now that he's completely back."

"Do you really think so? Is he completely back?"

"Sure," Kinch said quickly. Then, he caught Hogan's gaze and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe he needs more time."

"What do you mean?" Hogan went to the desk. "Has he talked to you about it?"

"I wish," Kinch snorted. "But, in fact, he's been rather quiet."

"Yeah, I know." Hogan shrugged. "Wilson says that he just needs time but, it worries me. Those moody changes at war time are never a good sign."

"We need to trust him, I guess. Give him space to figure things out. He'll pull through."

"Let's hope so." Hogan nodded as he read the message. "Did you read this?"

"I read the same thing, sir," said Kinch with a shrug. "But I think I missed the previous message. London is confirming the assignment of an observer?"

Hogan sat down. "Do you remember that mission several weeks ago at Schienbein Stadt?"

"The one when Newkirk was shot and Carter fought a duel?" Kinch smiled. "Hard to forget."

"Well, our target, Vasile Dalibor, wasn't satisfied with our services and promised to present a formal complaint. He did. Now London is considering sending an observer in order to confirm it or dismiss it."

"The nerve, how can they take him seriously? After all he has done, is that fair?"

"It's not about fairness, Kinch. It's about the image of our operations," said Hogan. "The man may be in prison, pending trial for crimes of war, but he can still open his mouth and cause us a lot of damage."

"It's pure vengeance. No one will believe him."

"Well, no, but in the meantime, someone is coming to watch us and take notes."

"What things will they be looking for?" Kinch took the paper and read it again.

"I'm not quite sure. I'll talk to London to clarify the charges." Hogan grimaced at Kinch's puzzled look. "It might concern Carter and Newkirk directly. They must not know about this yet, okay."

"My lips are sealed. As long as I get all the details."

"You will. This has to stay between you and me. I don't want to upset the troops, especially them both. They don't deserve being harassed after putting their lives on the line for that man." He stood up and went to his archives. "So, where are we in the latest mission? Any new developments?"

"I made a few calls. The word is about a secret weapon. Nobody seems to know further than that."

Hogan was quiet for a moment. "How about Benny from the grocery store? He's well connected."

"Oh, yeah. But how will we get him? He's always in his place and we can't go out during the day."

Hogan paced around while a plan began to form in his mind. After several minutes, he stopped. "How about this? Burckhalter is throwing a party for his few friends at Klink's place this weekend. We can volunteer LeBeau to cook for them. Klink will have to send him to buy some groceries."

"I'll send Benny a message tonight and we'll get the answer tomorrow morning when LeBeau gets to go to the store."

Hogan grinned. "Let's send Newkirk too, he needs fresh air."

"As Carter would say, _two turkeys with the same shot_," Kinch chuckled.

()o()o()

When young corporal Karl Lang showed for work that evening at the Gestapo HQ, he never thought this would be his last day. His assignment was supposed to be simple and easy. He just had to go downstairs and feed the prisoner. And so he did.

That lovely lady in the cell let him sit with her on the cot. She smiled and talked to him about nothing in particular. She told him about her collection of beautiful dolls and how Miss Edith, her favorite, told her stories while they had tea together.

Karl Lang enjoyed his visit so much that he did not notice that the lady had not eaten anything from the tray he had put on the table. She kept talking and talking until her voice was the only thing he could hear in his head. He looked her in the eyes and felt numbed. One minute he was yawning and considering to lie down, and the other, he was flat dead.

Captain Grunwald arrived two hours later. Drusilla welcomed him with an innocent smile.

"Lovely evening we have today, don't we." She came closer. "Are you tired? It's almost midnight, good captains should be in bed by now."

The captain took out the crucifix he wore around his neck and put it in front of him. "Stay away, creature from hell," he said in a controlled voice. He signed for his men to remove the body of Karl Lang.

"I liked the little present you sent me. But I think he got tired and went to sleep," she pouted. "Maybe the next one will stay for a bit longer." She glanced at the two guards behind the captain.

"Stay away from my men!" He pointed the crucifix towards her.

"Now, Captain, that's not nice. Especially when it was you who sent this man to me."

The guards stared at each other nervously. Drusilla perceived that they were terrified

"Don't be like that, boys. I'm pretty sure that the captain will send you down here eventually." She showed her perfectly even teeth.

Captain Grunwald could barely hide his anger when he dismissed his men. He waited until they were alone to glare at Drusilla.

"Are you going to torture me now?" She almost begged for it.

"You think this impresses me? You're nothing but a little monster. I'm ready to deal with you the minute your boyfriend comes back with the thief."

"Poor little soldier... You thought you'd have the cake just for you... how many chairs are at your table?"

Grunwald was mortified at having to deal with such a deranged creature. Of all his assignments, this one had proven to be the strangest and most disturbing he had ever had. He should have asked for better incentives just for having to deal with vampires.

Drusilla sang before plunging into a distracted dance around her cell.

_Pauvre soldat revient de guerre,  
Tout doux.  
Pauvre soldat revient de guerre,  
Tout doux.  
Mal équipé, tout mal vêtu,  
Un pied chaussé et l'autre nu,  
Tout doux.**_

Having decided that there was nothing more to discuss, Captain Grunwald went away, shaking his head and wishing he had been assigned to Paris or Côte D'Azur.

()o()o()

The night was almost over when LeBeau woke up to the mumbling from the next bunk. He strained his ear to hear above the wind blowing outside. "Uncroyable!" he whispered when he realized it was Newkirk singing in his dreams.

"_S'en va trouver dame l'hôtesse,Tout doux. S'en va trouver dame l'hôtesse, Tout doux. "Qu'on apporte ici du vin blanc Que le soldat boive en passant !" Tout doux..._"***

LeBeau threw his beret to hit Newkirk on the leg. "Tais-toi! J'en ai ras-le-bol!"****

"Oh, c'mon!"

"You gotta be kiddin' me!"

"Not again!"

Curses and complaints began to fill the dark. Newkirk sat up still confused by the rude awakening. He found LeBeau's beret next to him. "Hey, what's the idea?"

"You tell me, Le Maurice Chavalier des pauvres."***** LeBeau jumped down his bunk and went to the stove. "Who said you could sing, anyway?"

"Me, singing? What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Hey! Keep it down, decent people are trying to sleep in here," Carter said covering his face with his hat.

"Back off!" said Newkirk throwing the beret at him.

"All right, knock it off," Kinch got up and sat on his bunk. "It's almost roll call, anyway."

"Oh, yes, another sweet night that goes blank thanks to Newkirk." LeBeau shook his head and moved the coffee pot to get more heat from the stove.

"It's not me fault. I haven't done anything!" Newkirk came down and went to splash his face with fresh water. "Some people."

Hogan finally opened his door. The turmoil had set the pace of his mood for that day. "Could you be a little louder? I think Klink hasn't heard you yet." He spoke to everybody. "It sounds like a boarding school for girls. What's going on here?"

His question was answered by complaints coming from everywhere. He had to step forward and shut them all up. "Kinch?"

"I just woke up, sir. It seems that Newkirk and LeBeau are quarrelling about something."

"It's not a quarrel, Colonel." LeBeau came closer. "First, the ghost stories, then, the yelling at midnight and now, he was singing. In French!"

"I don't sing in French. I don't know a ruddy song in French! And why in the world would I be singing at this hour anyway?" Newkirk turned to Hogan.

"You got that right, Newkirk is not a morning person," Carter chuckled.

"Back on track, guys." Hogan took a mug to pour some coffee. "We're still in the sabotage business, remember?" He sat at the table. "Kinch, how are we with the underground?"

"They'll have something for us at Benny's Grocery Store today at ten." Kinch stretched.

"LeBeau, you have to go shopping," Hogan said.

"Why? I only go when I cook for-" LeBeau grimaced. "Oh, Colonel, do I have to?"

"How are we going to pick up the message otherwise?" Hogan shrugged. "You don't have to buy anything fancy, just one thing here and there-"

"There is nothing I can cook with one thing here and there," LeBeau said indignantly.

"Do as much as you can," Hogan smiled. "Newkirk, you'll go with him. And before any of you say something else, patch up your differences right now. We have enough with the war outside, understood?"

"Yes, sir," LeBeau said reluctantly.

Newkirk sighed when every pair of eyes turned to him. "All right, but I insist that I'm completely innocent of-"

"Newkirk, just agree and let it go," Kinch said.

The Englishman shrugged and turned to LeBeau. "Sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay. But you're a terrible singer," LeBeau smiled.

A gust of wind slammed the door open. Newkirk had to jump back to avoid being hit.

"Blimey, did you see that?"

"The door just attacked Newkirk! I told you, this wind is not like any other we have had before." Carter shook his head. "It's like something is coming this way."

"Something wicked?" Kinch chuckled.

A sonorous yell of _roll call_ startled everybody at Barrack 2. Hogan watched his men get ready and go out. He followed them, hoping that this would not be the forecast of a bad day.

tbc

* * *

* _"It is impossible to sleep in this place of shit!"_

******_Poor soldier returning from war_  
_Gently.  
Poor soldier returning from war  
Gently.  
Poorly equipped, ill-dressed,  
A foot shod and the other bare,  
Gently._

_*******Goes to find the lady hostess  
Gently.  
Goes to find the lady hostess  
Gently.  
"Let them bring in white wine  
The soldier drinks the way! "  
Gently._

_****Shut up! I'm fed up!_

_***** The Maurice Chavalier of the poor_

_Thank you very much for the reviews, I love them! Please, keep in contact.  
_


	3. Stands not within the prospect of belief

_** Stands not within the prospect of belief  
**_

_**Hammelburg, five hours later...**_

The woman entered the store and all eyes set on her. She was used to it, she did not react. She walked to a distant corner and waited.

Benny, the clerk did not like her there. People gossiped and stared. He took his broomstick and tried to avoid her eyes as much as he could. She scared him so. With her black dress and pale face hidden under a black scarf, she almost blended with the shadows in the darkened corner. She did not move an inch until seconds before the bells in the front door rang. Then, she straightened up. Benny swore that she was grinning as someone pushed the door open.

"He wasn't more than a ruddy party crasher. No one invited him," Newkirk said, holding the door while Schultz and LeBeau entered.

"Le Marquis de La Fayette is a national hero," LeBeau replied. "He helped to kick you, red coats, out of America."

They were not mad at each other. The early morning argument had faded away hours ago. This was just an act to keep Schultz distracted from their real reason to be there. Newkirk turned to the clerk and waved.

"Hi, Benny." He went straight to the apples and leaned on the gondola.

"Hi, Peter," the man said and continued sweeping the floor.

"Wait a minute," Schultz frowned. "I've never brought you to this store before. How come you know his name is Benny?" He stared at Newkirk. "And you too are going to tell me that all the clerks you know are named Benny.*"

"Of course not, that's silly. I call everybody _Benny. _Haven't you noticed that, Benny... I mean, Schultz?" Newkirk shrugged as he rubbed one apple on his sleeve.

"But he called you Peter."

"That's a common name for an Englander," Benny said. "I see one, I call him Peter."

Schultz shook his head. Every time he came into town with these prisoners, they surprised him with the same story. If there was something going on, he wanted to be the last one to know. "LeBeau, go on with the shopping. We have to go back to camp."

"Don't rush me, French cuisine should never be rushed." He turned to confer with Benny.

Benny handed them a piece of paper. "That's all they gave me today," he whispered.

"What is this?" LeBeau read. "Here says _an egg_?"

"Are they cooking breakfast now?" Newkirk took the paper. "And what is this? The egg triggers the weapon? What kind of weapon is that?"

"It seems that the egg is somewhere in Nuremberg. Apparently, the Gestapo is recruiting someone with special abilities to get it."

"What special abilities?" Newkirk asked.

"LeBeau! Remember the ingredients for the strudel." Schultz smiled and bowed to some ladies coming in.

"Here, Schultzie, have an apfel." Newkirk tossed the apple to him and looked around to make sure no one was looking at them. His eyes met with the lady in the corner and he smiled. "Well, hello there." He touched his hat and slightly bowed. The woman lifted one hand and pointed at him.

Benny pulled at Newkirk's sleeve. "Don't talk to her!" he whispered. "Did you look her in the eyes?"

"Well, yeah. She's not your bird, is she? Because she just winked and pointed at me with her finger," Newkirk chuckled and looked at LeBeau. The Frenchman shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Mutter Gottes, nein! " Benny crossed himself. He went throughout the store picking up all kind of herbs.

"Benny?" Newkirk called him. "Time is short, we've got to leave in a tick."

The clerk man came back and handed him the herbs in a paper bag. "Here, you must boil these in water, and drink it before midnight." He glanced at the corner where the woman was still standing and quickly turned back. "It might be too late anyway."

"Late for what? Benny, what's going on?" LeBeau smelled the bag with the herbs and wrinkled his nose.

"That's a witch," his lips barely pronounced the name. "I can't say her name but I know that she doesn't travel that far without a good reason-"

"A witch? Where?"

They were so taken by Benny's words that they did not notice Schultz getting closer. The three men jumped.

"Don't ever do that!" Newkirk put his hand on his heart and took a deep breath. "Listen, Benny. I respect most local customs, but this doesn't concern me at all."

"Oh, yeah? She came in minutes before you did. She was waiting for you," Benny said and crossed himself again. "You've been hexed."

"Hexed!" Schultz gasped.

"Hexed?" LeBeau asked. "What's hexed?"

"It means that she gave me the evil eye," Newkirk said shaking his head. "You know, bad luck." He shrugged and turned to Benny. "That only works if you believe in those things. Which I don't."

"But you're a magician. You have to believe." Schultz began to look at him with some concern.

"Precisely. Because I'm a magician, I don't believe in magic. It's all a bunch of tricks." He leaned on the gondola of fruit and one of the boards went loose. Newkirk almost fell when the apples began to roll over the floor.

The few customers around turned in their direction. No one saw the woman in the corner grin and exit quietly.

"Oh, Gott, it has already begun!" Benny crossed himself for the third time.

()o()o()

"Come on, you were out for almost three hours. They had to give you more than this," Hogan said, staring at the piece of paper. "An egg to trigger a weapon? What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Schultz kept interrupting us." LeBeau finished with the stove and came back to the table with a mug in his hand. "Then, that Benny wouldn't talk about anything else but the witch and the spells." He sat next to Newkirk. "Drink this."

"LeBeau, I told you I don't believe in superstitions." Newkirk shook his head and reached inside his pocket for his cigarettes. He tapped on the package and all its content flew around.

Hogan frowned and Kinch lifted an eyebrow. LeBeau just sighed and picked up the cigarettes with Carter's help.

"It's been like this since we left the store," he said. "First, Schultz couldn't get the car started. When we got out to look under the hood, the piston blew up and the steam hit Newkirk on the face."

"I knew you looked tanner than usual," Kinch chuckled.

"Not bloody funny," Newkirk smirked. "It's just a bunch of coincidences," said he with the cigarette in his lips. He tried to light it but his lighter did not work. He tried once, twice...

Hogan got tired of listening to the clicking and snatched the thing from Newkirk's hand. He lit the cigarette at the first try. "And that's why you went to the emergency room?"

"Not exactly." LeBeau pushed the mug towards Newkirk. "We were sitting on the sidewalk, waiting for the motor to cool off when the car began to move on its own-"

"And it ran over Newkirk's foot?" Carter asked.

"Not exactly," LeBeau went on. "When we were about to run to stop the car, Schultz came down the street and he stepped on Newkirk's foot."

"Auch!" Carter said. "At least there were no broken bones," he smiled at Newkirk. The Englishman just glared.

Hogan stood up. "But that just leaves us back in square one." He read the paper once more. "The egg that triggers the weapon?"

"Must be some part of the structure of the weapon that is in the shape of an egg," Kinch said.

"Hey, it could be a missile. You know, some part of the control section that has an oval shape or something." Carter's eyes glowed every time he talked about explosive weapons.

"It could be, indeed," Hogan said with some relief. "Kinch, go to the radio and see what else you can find out from the local underground." He laid his hands on Newkirk's shoulders. "And you, go to bed. It's been enough excitement for your first day on the field after what you went through in the last mission."

"Between the witch tales and Schultz stepping on me foot, I almost forgot about that," Newkirk said clapping his right side with his hand. He went to his bunk and climbed up in one jump, as usual. Only this time, he did not lift his knee high enough and hit the upper board.

Hogan came to catch him before he fell. "Are you okay?"

Newkirk rubbed his knee and laughed. "It's just a bump, I didn't even feel it."

"Boy, you're clumsy tonight," Carter shook his head. "I wonder why that woman hexed you. Maybe you should take that potion LeBeau prepared."

"It's not a potion. I made some tea to calm him down."

"I am calm," Newkirk glared. "And I don't need any bloody potion to make me feel better. Hexes don't exist. They're on the mind of the weakest and most susceptible. They don't affect me."

Before he tried another jump, Hogan grabbed his arm. "You'd better stay in the lower bunk for tonight, okay? Carter, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Carter nodded.

As they had been doing for the last four weeks, they made sure that Newkirk went to bed and fell asleep. Taking care of the Englishman had been hard and nerve racking. There had been several sleepless nights when they watched over him while he fought a nasty infection. He had finally begun to feel better but his friends were still too wired up to let him go back to his normal routine just yet.

"I suggest you go to sleep too, gentlemen," Hogan said. "Activities will have an early start tomorrow, remember?"

"How could I forget?" LeBeau sighed. "I have to prepare all that food for the Boshes and serve it to them."

"We all have to do it. Since the colonel got us to volunteer as waiters," Carter said as though he did not see Hogan standing there. "Which by the way, provides a great smoke curtain to keep up with the latest movements on the German front." He smiled innocently.

"All right, I've been listening to your complaints all day long. All I ask for is your cooperation. That's what we're here for, remember?" Hogan grinned. He took a last look at Newkirk who was asleep, and went to his office. After this mission, whatever it was, he would ask for a license to some of those fancy retreats at the Côte d'Azur.

()o()o()

"_How did I get here?"_

_She put her arms around his waist and looked up at him. Her natural paleness contrasted with the blackness of her long curly hair. She smiled. "I called you, my Enchanter of Delusion. You heard my song."_

_He looked around the cage and the dungeon. "Are you a prisoner here? Have I come to save you?"_

"_Oh, sure... we can talk about that later." She caressed his cheek down to his neck. "Do you want to dance?"_

"_I think we should get going. Someone might come." He grabbed her by the hand and headed for the door. She pulled back. "What is it? We must go."_

"_I can't," she pouted. "I'm enchanted... The wizard put a spell on that door. I'm trapped in here."_

"_But I could get through.. I opened the lock for you."_

"_I called you because I needed to meet my knight in shining armor... Now I know you're ready to fight for me... " She took his hand in hers and kissed his wrist._

()o()o()

_**The next morning...**_

The minute Newkirk woke up, he knew he was in trouble. Just as he sat up and prepared to jump off his bunk, he realized that he was not in the barrack anymore... He was _on_ it.

He could see Schultz opening the doors of every barrack and urging the prisoners out. Soon, he would notice the empty bunk and there would be an alert. Newkirk decided that it was no use on keeping the suspense. He sat on the edge of the roof and waved at the sergeant.

"Hey, Schultz. Gutten Morgen!" He smiled. "You wouldn't happen to have a ladder, would you?"

The sergeant sighed and pressed one hand against his forehead. These prisoners were getting what was left of his sanity. Good thing that he would have the afternoon off. Surely he needed to put some distance between himself and them, at least for a couple of hours in town.

"Did you hear the joke about the roof?" Newkirk grinned. "Oh, never mind, it's over your head anyway."

The prisoners already formed outside burst into laughs. Schultz tried to shush them but that only increased the turmoil. By the time that Carter and Kinch arrived with the ladder, Klink and Hogan were coming out from their respective offices.

"Schultz, report!" Klink yelled and looked up at Newkirk. "Why is this man out of uniform? And what is he doing on the roof?"

"Give him a hand before he slips and breakes his nose," Hogan whispered to Kinch.

"He should've had that potion last night." Carter sank his hands in his pockets and shook his head.

"Quiet on the lines!" Schultz yelled.

Newkirk came down and smoothed his nightshirt. He smiled widely and saluted Klink and Hogan. "Colonels, nice weather, innit?"

Hogan immediately assumed an attention position. "Corporal," he said responding to the salute with a straight face. "Give me the report. How nice is the weather?"

Newkirk cleared his throat and began to improvise. "Clear and bright, although several nimbus cumulus are forming up north and-"

"Enough!" Klink yelled. "What was he doing on the roof?"

"Well," Hogan said, matter-of-factly. "Fridays we work on the ditches outside the gates and I wanted to make sure that we'd have good weather. So, I sent Corporal Newkirk to check on that before roll call."

"That's right, sir. I was in me way down when I realized that the ladder was gone."

"Ridiculous!" Klink glared. "Colonel Hogan, I want this man in his uniform in five minutes! Sergeant Schultz, delay roll call until everybody is present!" He went back into his office.

Hogan waited for Newkirk to make the first move before pushing him inside the barrack. He led him to the first bunk and shoved him on it.

"Sit down, and don't move," he said, as he walked to the lockers. He fetched Newkirk's uniform and tossed it towards him.

The corporal caught it in the air. He smiled triumphantly and began to get dressed. He got up to zip his pants and almost stumbled on his own boots.

"Well, one out of two," Hogan shrugged. He sat at the table. "What happened out there?"

"You saw what I saw," Newkirk shook his head. "I must've been sleepwalking or something."

Hogan nodded and frowned. "I'm kind of worried, you know. This is very unusual."

"It's not in me manual either, Gov'nor."

"You've been acting strangely. Maybe your wounds affected you more than we thought."

"Well, I felt out of sorts after that but I think I've been handling it rather well. This is completely different." Newkirk pulled his nightgown over his head and Hogan noticed something in his left wrist.

"What's that?" He grabbed Newkirk's arm. "Looks like punctures. Insect bites?"

"Don't know," Newkirk rubbed it. "It hurts. Maybe I put me hand on a nail or something in the ladder when I was coming down."

"Perhaps," Hogan sighed. "Wash it thoroughly, it might get infected."

They came out to the lines and endured Klink's famous speech on Stalag XIII security and escape-proof system.

"Important members of the Party are coming to the Stalag tonight, and I expect full cooperation from all the prisoners." Klink directed these last words at Hogan, who shrugged.

Then, they were on their way to the field outside the gates. Kinch watched the road for their contact in Hammelburg coming with sewing supplies and spare parts for their communication system.

The rest of the group dig the trenches around the camp to avoid floods during the incoming winter. The day was rather nice. The fall was almost over but the reddish leaves still clung to the trees, giving the landscape a glow of fire. In Europe, they called this time Saint Martin's summer. For Carter, Kinch and Hogan, this was the Indian summer.

"Halt!"

Schultz's voice interrupted Hogan's reverie. Their contact had arrived with a cart full of fruit and milk.

"Come on, Schultz, it's just Benny. You know Benny," LeBeau began the distraction while the others hid the delivery under their clothes.

They were so busy watching Schultz that they almost missed the motorcycle going straight into camp. Hogan stared at it with curiosity. "Hey, Schultz, how come you bug Benny here and don't say anything about that man that just came in?"

"That's a courier from HQ Berlin," he shrugged. "I was informed of his visit. I know Benny. But I don't know what he's bringing today." Schultz gave an inquisitive look to the contents of the cart. "Yesterday he didn't say anything about coming here."

"Just grab something to eat and let us take a break." Hogan signed for Kinch to get closer. "I want to know what's in the mail today." He turned to Benny. "You're some minutes late, what happened?" he whispered.

"I was waiting for the newspapers to come out." Benny handed him one issue and whispered. "I thought you would like to know about this." He gave them the papers.

"Wow! Another disappearance in Hammelburg," Kinch read.

"It's like the fourth this week, isn't it?" Carter frowned. "Could it be a serial killer?"

"If he comes this way, he'll have to talk with my rifle," Schultz said.

"What for? Does your rifle know how to give directions now?" Newkirk chuckled and the others laughed. He leaned on his shovel and it slipped. He fell face down.

Benny watched Carter help Newkirk to his feet, and he shook his head. "He's getting worse, I see. Poor boy."

"He's been on the floor longer than on his feet," Carter said.

More laughs interrupted the activities.

"Oh, back off!" Newkirk dusted his uniform. "I'll be here till Sunday, my next number is in ten minutes."

"All right! Enough of jolly jokes," Schultz straightened up. "Go back to work! You have to finish by noon."

"Don't take it out on us," Hogan grinned, "just because you have a date this afternoon and don't want to be late." He turned and lowered his voice. "Well, Benny, what news do you bring?"

"There are no words on any missile prototype. But the egg has been located in downtown Nuremberg. The address is coming soon." He shook his head. "They say it must be a museum or an art gallery. They're still investigating."

"All right, all right," said Hogan with resignation. "We'll keep our eyes and ears open."

"Oh, just one more thing." Benny almost whispered. "My cousin Matilda's cat is having kittens in three days. She wonders what to do with them?"

"How many kittens?"

"Ten."

Hogan nodded to Kinch. "I'd say put them in a safe box by the river."

"No problem," Kinch said taking a mental note. "In three days."

A loud noise made Hogan turn around. "Newkirk, stop whatever you're doing and sit down. Don't touch anything, don't move!"

"So young," Benny said. "I wonder why she had to pick him up. I don't think they've met."

"I think that you did a good job with all that talking about hexing and witches, Benny. My boys can be very receptive sometimes, " Hogan said.

Benny shrugged. "Good luck with the egg hunting, then."

Newkirk made an attempt to grab a tin cup to drink water but bumped it against the barrel. He spilled the water all over himself.

Benny shook his head in pity. Hogan rolled his eyes. "Luck? I think that's at the top of our problems."

tbc

* * *

* _In __**Guess Who's Coming to Dinner**__, LeBeau tells Schultz that all the clerks he had met were named Max._

_Thank you for following the story with so much interest.  
_

_Happy reading! Reviews are always welcome ;)  
_


	4. The taste of fears

**_4. The taste of fears  
_**

Hogan sat at one end of the table while Wilson worked on Newkirk at the other end. Carter, LeBeau and Kinch waited around sitting on the bunks. Newkirk twitched on his seat and groaned every time the medic rubbed his wrist with alcohol.

"Don't move," Wilson said. "And don't bite the thermometer, please."

Newkirk rolled his eyes impatiently and mumbled something through his teeth.

"I told him he was pushing himself too soon." Carter shook his head.

"He's not eating enough," LeBeau said.

Newkirk could not stand any more of that and snatched the thermometer out of his mouth. "Stop talking as if I wasn't here."

Wilson took the thermometer, read it and shook it. "No fever, no infection." He shrugged. "I think we can rule out blood poisoning."

"So? What is it then?" Hogan asked.

"Scratches, a little deep and round but not life threatening."

"Sergeant, everything falls off his hands and he stumbles on his own feet. There must be something wrong with him."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Temperature and blood pressure are perfectly normal. He hasn't had fever in more than a week and the gunshot is completely healed." Wilson began to pick up his equipment. "He's a little pale, though. Maybe the loss of blood gave him anaemia."

"Still in the same room, mates," Newkirk said. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You can't take two steps forward without falling down." Kinch said. "Not to mention that you woke up on the roof this morning."

"Oh, yeah," Hogan frowned and leaned on the table. "The sleepwalking. Do you remember at least what you were dreaming about?"

Newkirk smiled and shrugged. "Well... I'm walking through the forest and see a castle. I hear this bird singing-"

"He means a girl," Carter explained to Wilson.

"The old crone at the grocery store?" LeBeau asked

"Stop interrupting," Hogan said.

"Oh, no, she isn't nothing like that woman... I can see the face of this one. She's really pretty with a killer dress and lips to die for and-"

"Newkirk, only relevant details, please." Hogan rubbed his neck. "Does she say anything? This is not the first time you dream about girls, is it?"

"Well, no... She sings lullabies. Sort of out of tune but-" He shrugged.

"A woman singing lullabies?" Carter asked. "Maybe you're dreaming about your mom."

"Oh, no, Carter. This woman is definitely not me mother." Newkirk grinned. "She's locked in a basement. I come and open the locks," he remembered with a smile.

"And you rescue her?" Wilson got interested all of a sudden.

"No, she has a spell on her. She can't abandon her cell."

"So, what do you do?" Carter asked.

"We play cards." Newkirk smiled as he remembered. "And dance..."

"Does she have a name?" Kinch asked.

Newkirk squinted. "Josephine Delacroix... she's French."

"French? Did she sing _Pauvre Soldat Revient de Guerre_? Because that was the song you were singing the other night." LeBeau stared at him attentively. "Does she call you by your name?"

"She calls me _Enchanter of Delusion_."

"What kind of a name is that? Sounds like some magician at my hometown fair." Carter chuckled.

"Dreaming about women and playing cards. So much like you, Newkirk." Kinch shook his head and clapped Newkirk's shoulder. "Perhaps you're just longing for a good game of poker or something."

"On my humble opinion, Newkirk needs to rest more, take it very slowly on physical activities and put his mind on practical chores." Wilson walked to the trapdoor under Kinch's bunk and turned one last time. "And please, stop talking about hexes and curses before all of you catch it too."

"Well, you heard the medic, Newkirk. No more activities for you today." Hogan stood up.

"You can catch up with your knitting work," Kinch said.

"You can help me to fold down the clothes. If you drop something, at least, it won't break." Carter smiled.

"And stay away from the kitchen area." LeBeau grinned

"Colonel," Newkirk gritted his teeth.

"Lay off, guys. We can't make a case of this. There's work to do."

"Oh, right," Carter said. "The dinner is tonight, what are we going to do with Newkirk? I don't think he should carry trays of glasses and dishes."

"Oh, no," LeBeau stepped forward. "I won't trust him with my crêpes and hors d'oeuvres!"

"By unanimity, you'll have the night off, Newkirk," Hogan smiled to see Newkirk actually satisfied with his decision.

"I'm afraid, I'll have to vote against that, sir," Kinch sighed. "The courier that came this morning brought the new code book from Berlin to every Stalag in this area. Now it is in Klink's safe box."

Hogan began to pace the room. "How about that? Just when I thought that our evening at Klink's would be a real waste of time." He turned to Newkirk. "Corporal, I'm afraid your leave has been canceled."

"The shortest I've ever had, sir," he sighed.

"But, Colonel. Newkirk is not up to anything right now," LeBeau said bringing one mug to the table. "Drink this, s'il te plaît," he said to Newkirk.

Newkirk barely raised his cup but managed to have a sip before it slipped through his fingers. Fortunately, it did not fall and break. He shook his head and tried to smile. "I'm with LeBeau, Gov'nor. I don't think it's such a good idea for me to come along."

The colonel looked at his men one by one. He was not used to seeing them so insecure and concerned about a routine operation. He tried the optimistic approach. If that did not work, he still had the fatherly pep talk. "He has to come too," Hogan shrugged. "What's the point of having a safe box all alone if we can't take advantage of it? Right Corporal?"

Newkirk stared at everybody and smirked. "I suppose," he shrugged.

Hogan frowned. Throughout the years, Newkirk had made a habit of opposing every plan before stepping forward and committing himself to it. But hesitation had never been an issue with him. Some talking about bad luck isolated incidents here and there seemed to be undermining his everlasting self confidence.

"Enough about that. Kinch radio the submarine to stay put to pick up those kittens, I mean, agents in three days. The rest of you, business as usual... please." He was heading for his office when someone knocked on the door. Everybody went silent as they stared at each other. "Are we expecting visitors?" Hogan said before opening.

"Schultz! You're knocking on the doors now?" Carter chuckled as the sergeant came politely in.

"I'm just ready for my afternoon in town and I don't want to risk finding anything fishy around here before I leave." He came in all shiny and new. "I come to take LeBeau to the kitchen."

The French corporal sighed and picked up his things. "You'd better have everything ready, I'm not in the mood for improvisations."

"Lucky for me, I won't be here to assist you. Colonel Klink assigned Langenschiedt." Schultz grinned with satisfaction. He turned to the door but could not help staring at Newkirk's arm."What happened to your wrist?"

"Oh, this?" The Englishman grinned. "Some king-size mosquito bit me. Look like fangs, don't they?"

"Looks like fangs," Schultz laughed. He shook his head and went to the door. "King-size mosquitoes, at this time of the year. The things that you hear in a prison camp."

Hogan pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Let's just get done with this day, I'm getting a headache." He turned to Newkirk. "Go into my office and sleep as much as you need it. We've done this before. I know you've been out of action for a while but it's about time to come back. We know you can do it," he finished with a reassuring smile that neither he nor Newkirk bought at all.

He waited for the English corporal to close the door behind him before turning to Kinch. "Stay with him at all times. We'll be at the party entertaining our guests. I'll make sure that Newkirk gets enough time to work."

"He'll do fine." Carter smiled condescendingly.

Hogan caught his intentions and rolled his eyes. Of all the parties held at Klink's, this promised to be everything but boring.

()o()o()

Schultz took the jar of beer and went to sit at one table by the window. The wind was just a breeze, the sun was nice, birds were chirping and the leaves were beginning to fall. He could not have chosen a better afternoon to come for a drink. Annie, the barmaid, put some complimentary pretzels on his table and smiled at him.

"Danke, Schätzchen*," the sergeant took a sip.

"Hans, mein Freund, how are you?" Ambros Bachmeir, the bartender came to sit with him.

"Ambros! How's everything going?" Schultz laughed.

"All is well, so far," the man said. "Can't complain."

"The business looks good today, eh?"

"It's early. They all will go away before the night falls." Ambros leaned forward. "Bad things are happening lately."

Schultz, who did not miss a chance for gossip, leaned forward too. "What do you mean by bad? Gestapo?"

"I wish," he chuckled. "People have been attacked in the streets. Two deaths last week, the shoemaker's son disappeared two days ago... And two cows they found this morning near Stalag XIII, they had signs," he whispered.

"What kind of signs?" Schultz whispered too.

A sudden wind slammed open the front door and a man wrapped in a dark cape came in. He was not too tall but his sole presence made every head turn towards him. He walked to the bar and swirled his cape off his shoulders. Schultz noticed smoke coming out of the man's clothes. But he did not mind; after a couple of beers, he did not trust his eyes very much.

The man sat down, took off his hat and put it on the bar. His short dark hair contrasted with the paleness of his skin. Annie came to wipe his side of the table. He took off his sunglasses and smiled. She smiled back, as usual and asked the customary question.

"What would it be?" She looked at him and her eyes got locked in his. The intense blue penetrated her mind and there was no one else in the room for her.

The stranger smiled with his eyes and his lips. He tilted his head. "Beer will be nice, luv."

He spoke English, but it seemed completely normal under that allure. Annie turned and came back with the drink within seconds. It was as if there were nothing else to do in the world but serving this man.

Schultz turned to Ambrose to make a joke about that but his friend's puzzled look discouraged him.

"What is it, Ambrose? It looks like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost, Hans," he said crossing his chest with his right hand. "Not a ghost."

The stranger took Annie's hands in his. One bolt of electricity hit her arms but it felt fine. She smiled.

"Listen, luv, I'm new in this town. Is it safe walking outside at night?"

Annie leaned on the bar to speak. Schultz could not hear any more of the conversation. The two of them looked like lovers whispering in each other's ears and giggling. One hour later, right after sunset, she asked for the evening free and left escorted by the stranger.

It did not take more than twenty minutes for everybody else to pay and go home. Schultz could sense something wicked in the air. Some kind of general fear tantamount to that before a RAF raid. He followed his friend as he finished putting things away.

"Ambrose? What is it? Why is everybody so jumpy?"

Ambrose stopped for a moment to look at him. "Moonless night. Evil is on the loose, Hans. Beware, someone is going to die tonight." He turned to look around. "The bodies they found had not a drop of blood in them." He touched his own neck. "There were two small punctures in their necks. Bites, Hans. Fang bites."

Schultz swallowed and rubbed his neck. "Are you sure? Those are just old wives' tells."

"Tell it to the shoemaker's son when you see him. But don't get close, he might bite you too." Ambrose pushed him to the door. "Go back to the camp, don't pick up anyone standing on the road." He locked the door behind Schultz.

()o()o()

Newkirk sat up, startled by something. His heart beat fast and it took him some seconds to regain control of his breathing. The day had gone and the small room was in darkness. Newkirk chuckled; it had been ages since the days he was afraid of the dark.

He was still on the bunk, putting his boots on when he caught a glow with the corner of his eyes. It seemed to come from the window but he could not look directly at it. A cold breeze hit his face and the glow began to float towards him.

Now, it seemed like blue steam taking the shape of a hand. It touched his cheek and vaporized. He felt ice-cold air caressing his skin and it was not until then when Newkirk felt fear forming inside of him. He wanted to scream but no sound came out of his mouth.

He heard a feminine voice moaning in his ear but there was nothing sweet in it. The noise grew louder and it began to hurt. Newkirk covered his ears and shut his eyes. He wanted to scream but his could not make any sound. He was paralysed with horror.

Next thing he felt was a hand lying on his shoulder. He jumped off the bed and fell down to the floor.

tbc

* * *

_*Thank you, dear (if the translator is accurate, that is ;) )_

_Thanks again for the reviews. I hope the story is appealing to your taste. It's going to be longer than I expected at first because is a complicated plot that needs time to settle down. :)_

_See you very soon...  
_


	5. Present fears

_Quick update, just like you want it ;)_

_

* * *

_

_**5. Present fears are less than horrible imaginings**_

"Newkirk! Wake up," Kinch shook his shoulder. He disguised his look of concern with a quick smile. "Quite a bad dream, eh? Here, let me help you."

"No," Newkirk said. "I'm all right. Just give me a minute." He got up and steadied himself as fast as he could. He looked around for evidence of what he had just experienced but there was nothing left; only the pounding fear in his chest.

Kinch watched him attentively but did not touch him. He walked to the window. "I think we're ready."

"How is it going?"

"Three cars, over half a dozen people, mostly uniformed, big medals, a couple of skirts..." Kinch said. "Big success for the kommandant, eh?"

"Big success for the rest of the Stalags that didn't have to throw this ruddy party." Newkirk stretched. He had finally regained control of his voice and stopped shaking. "That Burckhalter likes LeBeau's French cuisine, I guess."

"Yeah, that must be it." Kinch turned. "You'd better go and get your things. We have to move."

Newkirk nodded and followed him out of the office. He would try to put everything behind and concentrate on the mission.

()o()o()

Hogan sat in one corner, studying the guests as they arrived. Klink was too busy trying to please General Burckhalter to pay attention to anything else. On the other hand, the guests were too busy with the food and the drinks to pay any attention to Klink.

The general disliked Klink, although Stalag XIII facilities were by far the best among the prison camps. He would not miss the opportunity to gather his friends here at Kommandant Klink's expenses.

"You're a success, LeBeau. The trays get emptied only seconds after I enter the room." Carter went back to the kitchen and sat down for a minute. "Just like Schultz here, but faster."

"Jolly joker. I only had a small drink in town, I'm starving." Schultz tasted the cake and cut one slice for himself. "Everybody was so weird and jumpy... They say that there are evil creatures on the lose tonight..." his voice took on a solemn note when he saw Carter and LeBeau enraptured in his story. "I saw one in the middle of the road on my way back here... Johann, the shoemaker's son... He asked me for a ride, I almost stopped. When I got closer, I realized that he was..."

"Dead!" Hogan's voice preceded him into the kitchen. Carter, LeBeau and Schultz jumped. "This party is completely dead." He sat and took an ordure.

"At least, you can be out there." LeBeau went back to the stove. "I haven't moved from here since we came."

"I'm off. Schultz take me back to the barrack." Hogan put on his coat and led the way. "You, guys don't stay up too long."

Carter had to run after Schultz to give him his rifle and take the bottle of wine off his hand. "You come back for it later," he smiled.

Hogan and Schultz crossed the yard with several guards staring at them. There was one that got the sergeant's attention immediately. He stopped on the spot as he thought the guard's eyes glowed in the dark.

"What is it, Schultz? Did you see a ghost?"

"Very close," said he in a whisper. He resumed his walk. "I saw that man at the Hofbräuhaus this afternoon. He left with Annie and no one has seen her since then."

"Who's Annie?" Hogan squinted. The young officer stared at them for a few minutes. "And what's so strange about that? He looks like a regular guy to me," Hogan said.

"He was not in uniform back then. He didn't look like a soldier at all. I think I heard him speak English."

"He could've been on his afternoon off." The colonel entered the barrack and peered through the window until Schultz was far enough. "Are you ready?" he asked Kinch and Newkirk behind him. "Walk in the shadows, and be careful with the guards. Pay special attention to the one by Burckhalter's car. He looks suspicious."

()o()o()

Spike strolled around, watching the guests' arrival to the party. He would salute once in a while, just to justify the Gestapo lieutenant's uniform he was wearing. The night was dark and windy, perfect for an outing with his girlfriend. He cursed Captain Grunwald for imprisoning her and cursed himself for not being able to get her out. He did not care much about what Grunwald did with the relic; as long as he could take Drusilla out of the road of destruction.

One of the barracks opened and two men sneaked outside. Kinch turned once in a while to watch Newkirk, who walked behind him. They crossed the yard without problems. Newkirk only stumbled once but he managed to stay on his feet. The two-step stair to Klink's office should not represent a challenge but Kinch did not count on so much luck. The corporal miscalculated the last step and fell over Kinch.

"Sorry," he whispered as he helped the sergeant to his feet.

"Shh!" Kinch turned to see if any of the guards had paid attention to the noise. Everybody seemed more interested on what was going on at Klink's house. "Come on, open the door."

At that moment, the wind began to blow violently. The trees around the camp creaked and groaned while the leaves whirled in the air. Kinch adjusted the collar of his jacket as he wondered where the storm had come from. Spike did the same and squinted to have a better look at what was going on at the office porch.

Newkirk crouched and took out his lock picks. He turned them in his fingers for a couple of seconds and he heard a _crack_. He felt on his butt as the inconceivable had just happened. "It broke."

Kinch crouched next to him. "What?" Yelling in whispers was hard, but he had some experience with that.

Newkirk's eyes were wide open with surprise and anger. "The bloody thing just broke. Right in me fingers!"

Kinch looked around, keeping the lookout. "Can you fix it? Can you open the door at all?"

"Sure, but it br-"

"Newkirk! I heard you. Just open the damn door." Kinch hated pulling his rank on his friends. They were usually excellent soldiers but Newkirk's attitude was starting to get on his nerves.

Newkirk sat up and nodded. "Give me two seconds."

"Just do it!"

Newkirk took another pick, handling it as though it were made of glass. It took him twice his usual time but the lock finally gave in.

Kinch pulled Newkirk off the floor and did not let him go. "Don't touch anything." He pushed him inside.

()o()o()

Spike got tired of playing the guard and decided to have a snack. He walked to the gates where the lights did not hit. The dogs began to bark as soon as he passed by their houses. So much noise did not bother him at all. He sat on the barb wire on top of the gates and waited for the two guards on the perimeter to arrive at that corner. The attack was clean and fast, just before they turned and walked away. The barking suffocated the little noise he made.

He dragged the bodies away and went back to the yard. The wind blew with the strength of a hurricane and Spike felt that he was not the only unearthly creature around. He would stay close for a little longer just to make sure he was not missing anything important.

()o()o()

Kinch exhaled with relief when the door to Klink's office opened without opposing much resistance. Newkirk looked quite surprised too.

The sergeant stayed by the door and watched the window while Newkirk got ready with his tools. Nothing seemed to go wrong until he put the stethoscope in his ears and touched the safe box dial with his right hand.

His fingers perceived immediately an increase n the temperature. With all the odd things he had been experiencing, Newkirk tried to ignore this one yet. However, as the seconds went by, the heat became more and more intense to the point when his skin began to break.

Newkirk jumped backwards, holding his hand against his chest and clenching his teeth to suppress a scream. Kinch came quickly to his side.

"What happened?"

Newkirk shook his head and showed him his right hand. "That ruddy thing is on fire, mate!"

Kinch examined Newkirk's hand with his flashlight. There were blisters in his palm and the tip of his fingers had lost part of the skin. "This looks bad," he said. He turned the light to the safe, wondering what strange mechanism could be triggering such a security system. It was not plugged to anything. He came closer and licked two fingers before touching the box.

"Watch out!" Newkirk whispered.

Kinch tested the box but it was normal; cooler than room temperature as it was supposed to be. "There's nothing wrong with this thing. It's fine." He put his open hand on the dial and shrugged. "Newkirk, you're scaring me."

"Tell me about it. I'm the one stuck with meself," he crawled back to the safe. He reached the handle with his good hand and it sizzled. He drew back just before he got burned again. "Blimey! Can't touch it!"

Kinch could see panic surfacing in the Englishman's eyes. He grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Newkirk! Listen to me. It's just in your head, man. There's got to be an explanation. There's nothing here to hurt you but yourself!"

"The lock pick broke before I could put it in the lock. I keep dropping everything about, I see people that aren't there and now that bloody box burned me hand!" Newkirk could not take his eyes off the safe. "Kinch... I'm hexed!"

"No, no. Stop saying that word. It's all you, Newkirk, please. You've got to snap out of it!"

"L-let's go back to the barracks, Kinch. Please!" He shuddered.

"We have a job to do, Corporal." Kinch raised his tone a little. "We've come this far and we're not going back empty handed." He waited until Newkirk's attention was on him. "You can't use your hand but can use your ears. Do you remember the combination?" At this point, he was not surprised when the Englishman shook his head. "Never mind. I'll turn the dial and you'll listen. We'll open this thing together, okay?"

This time, Newkirk nodded. He was not quite convinced but he would do as Kinch said.

()o()o()

"I understand your position, General but I need to know why this is happening and why now." Hogan tried to keep his voice in a neutral tone through the speaker. Although the entire situation was just getting on his nerves.

"_There is a formal complaint against your team. We can't take these things lightly especially because there are budgets to conform to and other bureaucratic details to complete. The normal procedure is to open an inquiry and get to the bottom of the situation. You know that."_

"What is exactly the nature of the complaint, sir?"

"_Basically, unnecessary use of force, intimidation, attempted murder... It is directed against Sergeant Andrew Carter and Corporal Peter Newkirk... with particular emphasis on Corporal Newkirk."_ The general cleared his throat, anticipating some reaction after the next question. _"What can you tell me about the corporal's mental state, Colonel?"_

Hogan raised his eyebrows with indignation. He looked around to make sure none of his men was near to hear him swear. "With all due respect, sir. What the freaking hell are you talking about? My men work night and day literally breaking their backs to make this war less dangerous for our troops. No one's got the right to judge their mental state!"

"_Rob, please, I'm sorry for asking this, but the complaint is very specific about that and we need to make sure that this man is not in a position of-"_

"General, I understand. I really do but it doesn't make it easier. Just tell me what measures you're taking and I'll see if I can comply."

"_We need to see first hand how your team is working. If everything is as usual, I'll dismiss the case. We'll be sending an agent to stay with you for a few days and.."_

"Do I have a say in this, General. Because we don't have the facilities-"

"_Rob, I'm not going to discuss this further with you. There are some serious accusations that must be addressed at once. This is the easiest way to calm the rumors. Please, be a good sport and let's be done with this."_

Hogan was mad and frustrated but he had to agree and end the conversation with a laconic _Over and out._

()o()o()

The wind hit Spike from behind and almost pushed him to the ground. He grinned.

"Well, well, well," he said. "What we have here? Dark Midnight? Lurking about? You haven't happened to see any gentle old lady around here, have you?"

The wind struck him a second time and sent him against the fence. Spike sat up on the ground and chuckled. "All right, maybe not."

()o()o()

"Turn left," Newkirk whispered. He kept his eyes closed, listening attentively to the slightest click. "Right!"

Kinch followed his instructions, turning the dial softly and slowly. He did not even dare to breathe deeply and disturb Newkirk's concentration. After three movements one way and the other, the numbers became familiar. The Englishman stopped Kinch's hand.

"It's all right. I remember the rest of it." He dictated the last five numbers and smiled to see the door finally open.

"Hey, old man. You made it," Kinch tapped him on the shoulder. "I told you you could do it."

"The numbers just came back to me all of a sudden," Newkirk breathed with relief. "For a moment I thought I was going crackers."

Newkirk sat on the floor. Maybe Kinch was right, it had to be all in his head. The mind was a powerful weapon and it could be very dangerous too. But he would not let his fears take over. He had opened the safe despite everything else.

He was about to get up when he heard something. "What was that?"

"Don't start again, Newkirk. There's no one here." Kinch continued checking the papers in the box.

"There it is again," Newkirk said. "It's like someone scratching the walls." He got up and turned around. "Just like the other night."

"Newkirk, I warn you. Stop this-" Kinch was going to scold him when the scratching became stronger.

"You hear it! You bloody hear it!" Newkirk did not know if he should be glad or scared. "It's coming from this side."

They put their ears against the wall. The noise moved from inside the walls up to the ceiling and down again.

"What do you think it could be?" Newkirk tried to look calm.

"Water, wind... rats?" Kinch was not convinced of any of his explanations. The noise did not sound familiar or natural at all. When it increased in intensity, so did his apprehension. "Let's take the pictures of the book and go back to the barracks."

"Do you have the book?" Newkirk took a pile and checked the names and addresses. He was shaking and his heart pounded. He tried to ignore the noise as much as he could but then, the chair at Klink's desk creaked.

Newkirk turned and saw someone sitting there. The air in the room chilled all of a sudden. Newkirk felt his breathing getting painfully shallow. He could not stop shaking.

"Kinch?" he whispered.

"What?," Kinch said.

"D-don't you see it?" Newkirk could barely talk.

"Stop it, Newkirk! It's too dark and you're imaging things. Give me the book to take the pictures and get out of here." The calm in his own voice surprised him. "Newkirk, the book!" The corporal found it under the day's mail and passed it to Kinch along with the camera. "The flashlight, Newkirk." Kinch could not remember another mission more suffocating than this one.

The sergeant took pictures the best he could under the trembling light of Newkirk's flashlight. The corporal kept his eyes on the desk, where the shadow stayed still. He turned his head just for a second to see how the task was progressing and the shadow was gone.

"Kinch! It moved!" He turned around with his flashlight. "Got to turn on the lights!"

"No!" Kinch grabbed him before he touched the switch. "Are you crazy? We're not supposed to be here."

"Oh, yeah," Newkirk gasped. "That thing neither, but it is!"

Another cracking sound coming from behind the furniture made their hearts beat fast. Newkirk did not turn to see where the shadow was now. Kinch made sure of putting all the papers back in the safe. He helped Newkirk to start moving and dragged him out the office.

The distance between Klink's office and Barrack 2 was not that long but to Kinch it seemed endless. Newkirk did not mind being pulled by the hand. After what had happened inside the building, he did not trust his own legs to carry him all the way back.

It was a moonless night and the yard was dark. Curiously, the sentry tower seemed to have forgotten that spot of the camp in particular.

Spike was still dusting the sleeves of his uniform when Kinch and Newkirk passed running in front of him. He stared at them and tilted his head. He was not familiarized with the POW camps' regulations but he was almost sure that prisoners running across the yard at midnight was not contemplated as normal procedure. If he were a real guard, he would probably blow his whistle or something. Instead, he turned the other side and watched for the guests leaving already. None of the women matched Drusilla's description of a gentle old lady. He could not believe how much time he had lost in that place. At least, the two guards at the gate had made it not a total loss.

tbc

* * *

_I'd love to read how you like this one. Thank you for the reviews! ;)_


	6. A mind diseased

_** 6. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?**_

Hogan went to the stove for his fourth cup of coffee. He looked at the rest of his men sleeping in the bunks around him. How much they had to put up with, his team. None of them had asked to be part of the operations, but they had not planned to be POW at Stalag XIII either. As much as Hogan hated the idea, it was hard not to get them involved sometimes when he and his four men were not enough to carry on with their plans. If the operations ended, he, Kinch, Carter, LeBeau and Newkirk were likely to go back home but the rest of these men would remain confined in a prison camp for the rest of the war. That was depressing.

He sat at the table and looked at his watch. The evening at Klink's should be wrapping up and Kinch and Newkirk had not come back yet. He sighed. Somehow, he felt like a father waiting for his children who were coming back after curfew... Definitely, he would never have children.

The door opened abruptly to let Kinch rush in, followed by Newkirk. Both seemed to have been running around the camp, and were all sweaty and breathless. Kinch leaned forward on the table while Newkirk leaned his back against the door to keep it closed. Hogan noticed the lack of color on the corporal's face and feared he would pass out at any minute.

"What's with you two? Looks like you've seen a ghost," Hogan said, taking a sip of his coffee. Some of the men in the bunks flinched at the noise but turned over to go on sleeping.

Kinch shook his head and chuckled. "Pretty close." He took a deep breath and went to the sink for a glass of water. Then, he called Newkirk. "Come here, let's take a look at that hand."

Hogan turned to the door. Newkirk was not moving. His eyes were fixed somewhere else while his hand was clenched on the door handle.

"Newkirk?" Hogan called him.

"C-can't-" he tried to talk but his teeth chattered at every word.

Kinch came closer and grabbed Newkirk's hand. "Let go the door," he told him softly, while pulling gently at his arm.

"N-no! It may-" Newkirk clung to the handle, his back still against the door.

"It won't, I promise." Kinch turned to the colonel. "A little help?"

Hogan came and grabbed Newkirk's arm. "Newkirk, let go the door, now," he commanded him. The corporal's hand loosened its grasp. He allowed the colonel to push him toward the sink and hold his hand under the running water. "What happened to your hand?"

Newkirk was now staring at the water, too distracted to answer.

Kinch shook his head. "Something happened over there, Colonel. I think he's still in shock."

"Blimey, it hurts!" Newkirk spoke suddenly. He tried to yank away his hand but Hogan held it firmly under the water.

"Easy, we're almost done," Hogan said. "Kinch, for the last time. What happened in there? Did you get the book?"

"Well, Colonel. I took the pictures but everything went weird from the start." Kinch wrapped Newkirk's hand in a towel. He and Hogan led the Englishman to the table. "First-"

"Me lock pics broke and the box was red hot and the ghost in that chair-"

"Hey, slow down and breathe." Hogan turned to Kinch. "A ghost?"

The sergeant shrugged. "It looked like one, yes. But I'm sure it was the wind and the bad light. Maybe Klink's coat... I don't know."

Newkirk glared at him. "You told me you heard the noise and the chair moved-!"

"I heard something but it might have been the wind. Those things must have a reasonable explanation. Ghosts don't exist." Kinch sat down. "I'm sorry, Newkirk, I was carried away by the noises in the dark and everything. But you need to understand, sometimes we see what we want to see."

"I don't want to see any ruddy ghosts but there they are!" Newkirk tried to stand up but Hogan stopped him with one hand on his shoulder.

"Keep your voice down, the men are sleeping. Don't take it personally." Hogan smiled. "Just tell me how you got burned."

"The bloody safe box was too hot!" Newkirk yelled. "And there was a real ghost in that office!"

At that moment, Schultz came with Carter and LeBeau. Their happy faces faded. The mood was not too favorable in Barrack 2.

"Ghost? What ghost?" Schultz asked.

"And that's how the movie ends?" Hogan improvised. "Quite an ending."

"What movie?" asked Carter.

"_Phantom of the Opera_*," Kinch said.

"Movie? I thought you were talking about the disappearances in town." Schultz made an attempt at sitting down but Hogan stopped him.

"Interesting story but it's late. The boys need their beauty sleep or they will be very cranky in the morning."

"But I think this is important." Schultz kept talking while Hogan pushed him to the door. "I think there are vampires in Hammelburg."

"Vampires? Wow." Carter showed real concern.

"Yes, and I saw one today... the shoemaker's son, he had been lost for several days but tonight-"

"I'm dying to hear the rest of it, in the morning, okay?" Hogan held the door and almost closed it on the sergeant's nose.

"One too many," Carter chuckled.

"One bottle too many, bien sûr." LeBeau shook his head.

"Not the only one, apparently," Hogan said with a frown. "Newkirk, were you drinking? How many times must I tell you to leave Klink's liquor in peace?"

"I-" Newkirk opened his mouth and turned to Kinch for some support.

"He didn't touch the bottles,sir," Kinch said.

"A real shame, I must add." Newkirk leaned his cheek on his fist.

Hogan unwrapped Newkirk's hand and shook his head. "Maybe Wilson should take a look at this. Carter?"

The young sergeant did not have time to gasp. "On my way," he said heading for the ladder.

"What happened?" LeBeau sat in front of Newkirk. "That looks-"

"-bad, yes. That's been clearly established already." Newkirk began to feel awkward.

"Did you put your hand on the stove?"

"No, Louie, I still haven't done that," he glared. "Klink's safe was burning up when I touched it."

Hogan and LeBeau turned to look at Kinch, who shrugged. "I don't have an explanation for that."

"I do," Newkirk said.

"If you say you're hexed one more time-"

The trapdoor opening behind him interrupted Hogan's sentence. Wilson came in with his small kit and winced at the look of Newkirk's hand.

"My goodness, Newkirk. Did you put your hand on the stove?"

Hogan laid one hand on Newkirk's shoulder and shook his head. "Do as much as you can, Sergeant and come into my office before you leave. " He signed for Kinch to follow him. "LeBeau, Carter, go to sleep."

()o()o()

"Newkirk's mental state? Are they crazy?"

"Don't play with the words, Kinch. We have a serious problem here." Hogan sat on his bunk. "London is taking the word of that goon and now we're under the microscope. The slightest hint of irregularity in our procedures and we're out of business."

Kinch thought about it for a minute and grinned. "Would they send us home?"

"Would you want to go like this? Taken down by a war criminal?"

Kinch sat at the desk and sighed. "Doesn't sound good when you put it that way. What do you want us to do, then?"

"Show them our best behavior, no monkey business while the observer is here," he said with a shrug. "We'll be better than altar boys."

Wilson knocked and opened the door.

"Speaking of which... What's the verdict?" Hogan asked.

"Second degree burns," Wilson said. "Not that bad, they're very small. A little painful but they'll heal fast."

"What could've caused them?"

"Touching something hot," he grinned. "I can't see another cause... unless..."

"Yes?" Hogan leaned forward.

"Well, I've read about the power of suggestion. I don't know. I've never seen it with my own eyes but, I think it's possible."

"That Newkirk burned his own hands with the power of his mind?"

"Mind over matter," Kinch said. "I've heard that before."

"C'mon, guys, d'you really believe in those things?" Hogan had to smile. "It's too much like tales for the state fair, don't you think?"

"I know it's hard to believe, but when someone is under a lot of pressure his mind can develop defenses against reality." Wilson shrugged. "I've heard you all talking about bad luck and getting hexed. I think that's starting to affect him physically. This could be just a manifestation of other problems. Something that could escalate up to uncontrollable levels if we don't pay enough attention."

"What problems? We're all in the same boat here."

"But Newkirk is just recovering from a life threatening wound," said Wilson. "He was so concerned about the mission and Carter's safety that he did not have time to understand what was actually going on. Maybe he kept his fears to himself for too long and now they're just surfacing."

"He broke a lock pick right before we entered the office. He panicked."

"There you go, he's scared of failing... letting you down, and he's blaming it all on his bad luck," said Wilson with a sigh. "He might be getting over the edge because of a number of coincidences. I can see he's really frightened tonight."

Hogan rubbed his neck and walked to the window. "All right, let's say that we identified the problem, what can we do for him?"

"As I said before: a lot of rest, little physical activity, keep him away from anything that may cause him mental distress."

Hogan shook his head. "Shall we send him to one of those country resorts in Switzerland?"

"Could you? I'll keep him company," Kinch chuckled.

"I'd volunteer too," Wilson smiled. He went to the door. "We'll get your kid back in no time, Colonel. I may give him some sedative, but only if his condition worsens. I don't want to initiate him into something that he might not be able to control in the long run."

Hogan nodded as a way to dismiss Wilson. Then, he rubbed his neck and sighed. "Kinch, how are we with our side job?"

"Oh, yes..." Kinch sighed. "The submarine is ready but the moon has been too bright these days. The agents might not be able to leave the security house on time."

"Oh, boy," Hogan shook his head. "Tell them to hang on till the last minute. After that... well, we'll see."

"On a happier note, the inspector is coming without any delays."

"Don't be sarcastic... Of all the weeks, Newkirk had to choose this one to have a breakdown." Hogan rolled his eyes.

"It's not his fault," Kinch said.

"I know," he nodded. "Not a word about the reasons for the inspection. We'll keep the observer on the safe side of our operations and no one has to know why he is actually here until the last minute. I might brief Carter later, but we leave Newkirk out of it, understood?"

"No problem, sir. We'll get through this," he said with a reassuring smile and left.

Hogan went to his desk and looked for a good book to read. With so much going on at the same time, he was sure he would not fall asleep any time soon.

()o()o()

_He sneaked behind the guards, walked down the long hallway and entered the cell. The woman stared at him with hungry eyes. _

"_You come home late, what delayed you?" asked she, holding his hands in hers. "Oh, my... You are hurt." She took his hand and held it against her cheek._

"_I'm fine... Now that I've come here..." He smiled when she smiled. The coldness of her skin soothed the pain of his burns. "When shall I take you out of here?"_

"_Soon, mon amour. There are some trials you must meet before I am able to leave this place." She looked at him with dark round eyes and giggled when she licked the palm of his hand. "Do not yield, please... or we'll never meet again..." Then, she raised her head to look at him again. Her eyes had turned yellow and her lips parted to show her long fangs. This time, she kissed him on his neck._

_If there was pain, he did not feel it. The thrill of being hers was overwhelming. Pleasing her, making her happy. Nothing else mattered but being completely hers..._

()o()o()

"Carter, he's gone!"

Carter jumped off his bed and put on his boots. He reached for his coat. _He's gone! He's gone! _He stopped for a second. "Who's gone where?" he said looking around for the person that had woken him up so abruptly.

"Newkirk is not in his bed," LeBeau whispered from the door. "Hurry, we must find him!"

Carter came out rubbing his eyes. Still groggy and a little upset. He hated it when he could not take his dreams to an end. "Is he walking in his sleep again? Where do you think he can be at this hour? Did you check on the roof? What time is it anyway?"

"Can you say anything else that is not in questions marks?" LeBeau waited for the sentry tower lights to slide by before turning on his flashlight. "It's almost four. I just notice he was not there. And I don't have an idea of where he can be."

"What's wrong with Newkirk?" Carter buttoned up his coat. The early morning air was freezing. "He's gone from one thing to the next-"

"He was very sick after the gunshot. Maybe this is just a consequence of it." LeBeau crouched to look at the darkened corners of the buildings.

"You think he's going crackers?"

"What's that? S'il est toqué? Oui, I think so, a little. Just like you and me, and the colonel and Kinch," said he standing up. "Maybe he's with the dogs. They were barking most of the night. Did you hear them?"

"I suppose, but I was dreaming of the farm again and I have this English shepherd..." Carter chuckled. "My dog is English. I never thought about that."

LeBeau shook his head and walked to the kennels. Schultz was turning the corner when he saw both men walking around. He held his rifle as though it were loaded and followed them.

"Halt!" He yelled in whispers. "Roll call is not until five thirty. Why is everybody out of the barracks?"

"Everybody?" Carter did not even bother raising his hands. "It's only LeBeau and me out here. We're jogging."

"Jogging? In your pajamas? One hour of exercise in the morning is not enough for you?" He shook his head. Then, he lowered his voice a little more. "Aren't you looking for der Englander?"

LeBeau and Carter widened their eyes. "Where is he? Have you seen him?" LeBeau asked.

"Come, but please be very, very quiet." Schultz walked in front of them across the yard. No one said a word when they came around Klink's house. "There," he pointed at a darkened corner under Klink's bedroom window. Newkirk was there, curled up in his nightshirt, and deeply asleep.

Carter sighed and smirked. "Oh, boy. I think he really has a problem."

"Certainement, il est vraiement toqué," LeBeau shook his head.

tbc

* * *

_Phantom of the Opera with Lon Chaney (1925) (Gerald Butler hadn't been born yet in 1943)_

_Your input is greatly appreciated. _

_Thank you for your enthusiasm. I'm updating steadily so you don't miss the thread ;)  
_


	7. Nothing is but what is not

7._**Nothing is but what is not**_

"An inspector? What do we need an inspector for?" Carter asked.

"Don't mind him. He woke up asking questions this morning," LeBeau said.

Hogan stared at his men sitting around the table. They were all trying to concentrate on what he was saying although their minds were behind his office door. Hogan had made Wilson come to examine Newkirk the moment he entered escorted by Carter and LeBeau. By a wonderful coincidence, roll call had been canceled for the day.

"I know we're concerned about Newkirk but we have to solve more immediate problems." Hogan put one foot on the chair to lean forward on his knee. "It's just a routine inspection. Nothing you have to worry about. But I need the best behavior on your part as long as that man stays here."

"We need to be at our best until he leaves." Kinch nodded.

"That means to keep that man far away from Newkirk. We won't get points for a corporal sleeping on the roof, all right?" Hogan looked at Carter and smiled. "It's okay, Carter, we'll get out of this situation with flying colors."

"I know, sir. We'll do our best and I'm pretty sure everything will turn out okay." Carter tried to smile. "It's just that, I don't know... I'd feel better if we knew what's wrong with Newkirk."

"Yeah, I know." Hogan sat down and stared at his office door. "Me too."

Newkirk watched all the medical equipment spread on the desk. He grimaced and rubbed his neck. "D'you want me to open me mouth and say 'Ahh'?"

Wilson snorted. "It won't be necessary. I know there's nothing physically wrong with you; besides the burns in your hand... and maybe those punctures in your neck." He grabbed Newkirk's chin and made him gently turn his head to have a better look. "It's the second time in less than a week. Do you have any idea of how it happened?"

"No, I just noticed them when they began to hurt."

"There's blood in your nightshirt collar." Wilson frowned. "At least they're not infected."

"May I put on me shirt now? It's kinda chill in here."

"Sure." Wilson picked up his things and put the doctor kit aside. He watched Newkirk's slow movements with the corner of his eyes. "Are you in any pain?"

Newkirk shook his head. "No, just tired. Well, me hands hurt a little."

"Keep the gloves on for one more day and you'll be okay."

"Will I?" He smirked. "Wilson, do you think that I can hurt meself just to think about it?"

"Not in purpose, but sometimes we get obsessed about certain events. Bad luck, for instance-"

"But I don't believe in those things. I'm not like that," he said. He went to lean against the window shutter and crossed his arms over his chest. "I feel so weird lately."

"Lately? Let's say, after that day at the grocery store?" Wilson looked at him. "Maybe that, plus the subsequent incidents affected you more than you want to admit. The week after the shooting was quite excruciating, wasn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"You may be suffering the sequels of that event. You know, unable to move, or participate on the missions. And there was a lot of physical pain. Sometimes our mind just want to shut down those uncomfortable moments by turning to weird supernatural stuff. Now that you're well enough to go back to work, maybe there's some apprehension."

The sergeant had a way with words that made problems look smaller than they were. He lightened up the situation and everybody felt relieved. Newkirk wanted to believe him.

"It's possible," he reluctantly nodded. "But I never thought of meself as being so-"

"Susceptible?"

"I was going for half-witted, but that fancy word would do," he smiled.

"Well, that's it. Now you must try to take things easy. The trauma caused by pain can be exhausting. Maybe this won't go away overnight, but I'm sure that you'll overcome it little by little." He clapped Newkirk's shoulder. "Do you need anything to sleep?

"A rope to tie me up to me bed," he laughed painfully.

"Rest, Newkirk. Don't mind anything around here. You must rest. Do I make myself clear?"

"Rest," he nodded and followed him outside.

The stares of concern weighed heavily on Newkirk. He hated to be the center of attention, especially when everybody seemed to be waiting for him to tumble forward and land face down on the floor. He came to sit on his bunk. It took a great deal of concentration to climb up casually and without any incident.

Even Hogan seemed distracted from his own speech to watch the corporal. Once he was installed on his bed and lit a cigarette, the colonel resumed the lecture.

"As I was saying, I expect the best behavior and full cooperation while the inspection takes place. Oh, yes, we have a small leak and landslide in section T of the tunnel that must be repaired before winter starts. Four men would do the job."

"Volunteers, you mean." Newkirk asked.

"Thank you, Newkirk, but I'll keep you on the bench for now, okay?" Hogan grinned. "Carter, LeBeau and Steward, and Kinch is in charge." He straightened up and smiled. "Now, I need two volunteers to go outside and find out why we're confined to our barracks."

()o()o()

Carter and Newkirk walked carelessly towards Schultz. The German sergeant did not see them coming and almost dropped his rifle.

"Hey, easy, Schultz. It's just us, Carter and me," Newkirk said. He stationed himself at one side and Carter at the other.

The young sergeant took out a bag of jelly beans, had a few and passed the bag in front of Schultz to Newkirk. Schultz's mouth watered. He just loved jelly beans. One by one, or several at once. It took some will power to resume his guardian position and scold the two men.

"What are you doing outside?" He narrowed his eyes. "You must be confined with the rest of the prisoners."

"Oh, Schultz, with this beautiful weather? That's not fair." Carter tossed another jelly bean in the air and trapped it in his mouth. "Do you know why we're confined this time? What did we do?"

Schultz watched the bag going on its way to Newkirk. "It doesn't have to do at all with you. We have a situation here." He turned around to make sure no one was paying attention.

"What kind of situation? Why weren't we informed?" Newkirk narrowed his eyes and passed the bag back to Carter.

"There was no way to know. It happened very late last night." He closed his eyes when the bag touched his nose. He suddenly realized he was talking about classified information and grimaced. "Can't talk about that." He straightened up and began to walk. The men followed him closely.

"Come on, Schultzie, for a jelly bean?" Newkirk pushed him gently.

"For one jelly bean I would give you the time but no more than that."

"And for half a dozen?" Carter grinned evilly.

Schultz knew that it was not about will power but ethics: he was the guard. Guards should not fraternize with the prisoners, or accept jelly beans whatsoever. But he had not eaten anything since breakfast and lunch was still two hours away. No one could blame him for not wanting to starve.

"All right, this is between you two and me." He tasted the first jelly bean and sighed. "Some time, between eleven and midnight, two guards were killed. Their bodies appeared several meters from the main gate this morning." His expression got somber as he heard his own words. There was nothing casual about two young men killed senselessly. "We're waiting for the SS to arrive to investigate the case. You might be prepared for interrogation."

"Us? Why? We didn't do it." Carter frowned.

"Picture it in your head, Andrew. Two guards killed in a ruddy prison camp. Who do you think the usual suspects will be?" Newkirk leaned against the wall. "I didn't hear any gunshots, were they stabbed?"

Schultz shook his head. "That's the odd part of it, their bodies don't present any evidence of violence. Except for two small punctures in the neck." Suddenly, he frowned. "Just like the ones in your hand, Newkirk."

Newkirk pulled his sweater up and crossed his arms to hide his hands. "Not bloody likely, where do you get the idea?" He chuckled nervously.

"Punctures in the neck,"said Carter with a snort. "Next thing you're gonna say is that they didn't have a drop of blood left in their bodies." His laughed lasted little when he saw Schultz's eyes widen. "Oh, come on, you have to be joking."

"I didn't say vampires. The kommandant forbade me to say that word. But strange things have been happening around here. Like you, Newkirk," Schultz turned to him. "You were sleepwalking last night. Didn't you see or hear anything?"

"I was bloody sleeping!" He yelled and turned to see if anyone had heard. "I don't think you should mention me name. Anyways, you were also out last night, weren't you?"

"B-But I was with Carter and LeBeau and-"

"And you didn't hear anything either," Carter narrowed his eyes inquisitively.

Schultz stared at them staring at him. "All right, all right. You all were in the barracks, I can say that because I saw you there." He looked at the jelly beans. "Another dozen and I might forget the punctures in your wrist, Newkirk."

The corporal laughed. "Schultz, are you blackmailing me now?" He gave him the bag. "Happy vampire hunting."

They returned to Barrack 2 with the news of the day.

()o()o()

The daily activities in the Stalag were off. Everybody was concentrated in the barracks which facilitated Hogan's meetings in the tunnels. He waited until his four men were there with him to start the briefing.

"Okay, this is today's agenda." He took his little black book and read. "Local underground needs a copy of the new codes. Carter and Newkirk will take it tonight. The rendezvous will be at the Hofbrau." He looked up at Newkirk and grinned. "Don't get any ideas. Oh, yeah, code name is Sleeping Beauty-"

"No pun intended, Newkirk," Kinch said.

"So ruddy funny we are today, aren't we?" Newkirk grunted.

"After last night's killings, the roads will be up to the rim with patrols. You must go in a disguise that won't raise suspicions." Hogan did not want to miss their faces when he finished the sentence. "You'll be a lovely old timer couple going out for a drink."

"The gnädige Dame again?" Newkirk was upset. "Can't I be the Papa this time?"

"Come, Corporal. Where's your famous British flair?" Hogan grinned again. "Besides, there's a brand new pair of silk stalkings you haven't tried yet."

"It's not that bad. I've heard that for old people, first drink is on the house." Carter smiled and tapped Newkirk on the back.

"You might even get a ride home afterward," LeBeau laughed.

Newkirk gave up and laughed at the jokes. This was better than everybody running to pull him up off the floor. "Oroit, the joke's on you, I look pretty in black."

"Moving on," Hogan said after a moment of more jokes and fun. "The inspector also comes tonight."

"Boy, couldn't he choose a better day?"

"You can say that again, Carter. With a murderer on the loose and the new weapon affair, are our hands are more than full. We'll give him as much as we can without compromising the nature of our operations, okay?" Hogan checked that on his list. "LeBeau and Kinch, you'll pick him up. The plane should be dropping him within thirty minutes after twenty-one hundred hours. Be punctual, we don't want to disappoint the man before he starts his job." He put his notebook away. "Questions?"

"Any word on the Hammelburg disappearances?" Carter asked, raising his hand.

"Do you want to start the inquiry yourself?" LeBeau chuckled.

"This time, we'll follow Schultz' example. We know nothing, we hear nothing," Hogan said. "Now, go and play indoor cat upstairs, everybody." He turned to Newkirk. "How are you?"

"Better than last night, sir," he nodded.

"Everything's all right, you know that." Hogan tried hard to rebuild Newkirk's confidence before it went down altogether. It did not seem an easy task. "Go to my office and stay in until it's time to leave. I don't want to see you wandering around, do you hear me?"

Newkirk grimaced but nodded anyway. "Yes, sir."

()o()o()

Spike arrived to the castle running for shelter from the sun. The cape helped to protect his sensitive skin but without a break once in a while, he would have burst in flames in matter of seconds. He turned the corner, looking for the small window at ground level that brought a little light to the basement cell. When he found it, he hid under a small roof by the tower. He cooled off as much as he could and waited for some clouds to cover the sun. He put the cape back over his head and ran to the window.

"Dru, are you still there?" Spike whispered.

_Au clair de la lune, mon amie Pierrot,_

_Prête moi ta plume pour écrire un mot..._

"Dru! Got not much time. Talk to me!"

"_Voices... I hear voices... Spike? Are you invisible now?"_

Her voice was the only thing he needed to goad him into the battle. "Hell no, I'm here, outside." He lied on his belly trying to look through the small window. "I went to Hammelburg, but there was no gracious little lady whatsoever. Are you sure that was the right address?"

He heard the cards being shuffled and a little giggle on the side.

"_She's still there. She waits for you..." _There was a pause_. "There is a name... The Phantom."_

"Phantom? What kind of name is that for a bloody old woman?" Spike shook his head. "Oroit, I'll go back and keep looking for sweet little ladies," he sighed. Then a sharp pain made him jump. "Bloody hell!"

"_William?"_

"I'm all right. My bloody boot caught on fire," he said, beating on his ankle with his cape. "I'm off here. But I'll be right back. Don't despair, my lov-" He was interrupted by the song.

_Au clair de la lune, mon amie Pierrot,_

_Prête moi ta plume pour écrire un mot..._

Alone, in Hogan's quarters, Newkirk was deeply asleep when he began to sing.

_Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu_

_Ouvre moi ta porte pour l'amour de Dieu..._

()o()o()

The SS officer read the list Colonel Klink had just given him. He read the names attentively before smirking. "Were these all the people in the Stalag last night?"

"Certainly, it was a small party. General Burckhalter did not want to-" Klink interrupted himself when he felt the officer was not paying attention to him.

The man was by the window, staring at the barracks. "How about the prisoners? Were they all inside their barracks?"

"Yes, except for the ones minding the kitchen." Klink could feel the officer staring at him through his black glasses. "They would be... Sergeant Carter and Corporal LeBeau... Colonel Hogan was present for a while too..."

()o()o()

Carter shifted in his chair a couple of times. He loosened the last bottom of his shirt collar and breathed deeply.

"Carter, for the last time be quiet." Hogan pretended to read one of those military magazines that Klink kept on the waiting room of his office. Occasionally, he looked up at Helga's desk and flirted with the girl. "You're screaming guilty all over the place," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, Colonel but I hate it when they call me for interrogation. I'm always sure that I'm gonna start talking and I won't be able to stop and-"

"You've never done that. In fact, I think they've never been able to finish interrogation with you." Hogan shrugged. "I have perfect confidence on my men, Carter. You never disappoint me. Besides, there is nothing you can say about this case."

LeBeau came out with a wide smile on his face and sat down next to Hogan. "They made me write my crêpes recipe, with secret ingredient and everything. Literally, a piece of cake."

Now, they called Carter. The sergeant needed a push from the colonel to get up and start walking. Hogan took a deep breath when he saw the door closing after him. He turned to LeBeau.

"As long as he doesn't confess to the murders, we're completely safe."

Newkirk woke up gasping for air. He had been dreaming about those invisible hands again. Now, they had locked around his neck and began to squeeze. He wanted to scream, but there was no air in his lungs to produce a sound. He got up and his feet did not respond. He felt down to the floor. It took him two entire minutes to compose himself enough to get up and sit on the bunk. He had always congratulated himself for having a vivid imagination, but after a while, it seemed getting rather dangerous.

This one had been by far the creepiest dream he had ever had.

"... of course, if it was a vampire, you'll have to watch for simple things such as the reflection on the mirror. Because vampires don't have a reflection-"

"Sergeant, that's enough." The SS officer took out his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He turned to Klink.

"Yes, I know, I tried to warn you," he shrugged and sat at his desk. "You're dismissed, Sergeant Carter."

"Send Colonel Hogan in," the officer ordered him on his way out.

Klink only rolled his eyes. If they had faced a couple of wiseguys, Hogan was the master mind. The kommandant knew that the investigation would go nowhere as long as they focused on the prisoners. His only hope was for Hogan to be clever and cut the interrogation short.

()o()o()

Newkirk went down the tunnel before Hogan and the others came back from Klink's office. He began to get dressed and apply the makeup as a way of putting his mind on something else. He looked himself in the mirror and noticed the reddish spots forming around his neck. He remembered Wilson's explanations; it was possible that he had hurt himself in his dreams. That did not put him at ease. His body was starting to show bruises and lacerations and he wondered if this was a good time to panic. He took the red shawl and a scarf to cover his neck the best he could.

"Have you asked Sergeant Schultz? I saw him coming to the barrack twice last night-" Hogan sat with his hat on his lap and looking innocent.

"He had to escort you and then Carter and LeBeau," said Klink.

"Well, yes, but still. I've always thought that carrying an empty rifle is highly suspicious, don't you think? Maybe he doesn't fear anything because he's the one that-"

"Colonel Hogan, you came back to the barrack very early, may I ask why?" The SS officer was getting impatient.

"As I said, I'm a country boy. You know _early to bed, early to rise_-"

"Colonel Hogan!" The SS officer glared. "Did you see anything-" He stopped him before Hogan rushed an answer. "Besides your men, Sergeant Schultz and the guests in the party!"

"Well, in that case, I have to say no... If there was anything funny... Well that's a relative term, isn't?"

Klink shrugged when the officer stared at him. Definitely, they were not going to get anything from the prisoners.

()o()o()

Hogan came down the tunnel with Carter and LeBeau. The three of them looked happy. There was nothing more satisfactory than enraging officers during questioning.

"The poor man will never come to a Stalag as an interrogator again." LeBeau laughed. "Le colonel defended the fort as a champion."

"Nothing to it. They should concentrate outside where the real killers are." Hogan shrugged and checked on Newkirk's disguise.

"How do you like it, sir?" Newkirk smiled widely. "Is it too much?"

"Not at all. Every time I see you in this dress, I remember my grandmother." He turned to Carter. "Hurry up, Grandpa. We need to make that delivery on time."

Kinch came with the envelope and handed it to Newkirk. "The road is clear."

"Very well, then," Hogan met Carter's and Newkirk's eyes. "Needless to say that you must be extra careful tonight. We don't know what is going on out there and the patrols are all around. Make the delivery and come back immediately."

"Yes, sir," Carter saluted while looking for his hat and glasses.

Newkirk nodded. "No happy hour, I promise." He turned to Carter and his voice changed into character. "Come on, Papa. Let's go for a walk in town." He smiled and tightened the scarf around his neck.

Hogan saw them leave. It was just a mission as many they had done before. But somehow, it felt different, dangerous. He went to LeBeau. "Are you ready?" He sighed. "Bring our unwanted guest and let's get done with this once and for all."

()o()o()

Carter and Newkirk walked as fast as they could until they arrived in town. They had met a few patrols on the road but the guards did not bother to stop an old couple. They arrived a few minutes earlier.

It was not news that the Hofbrau was almost empty. As the bartender explained to them, the killings were keeping people in their houses. Only a few would dared to walk outside in times like this. Carter and Newkirk sat at a table while waiting for their contact to arrive. Newkirk took out a fairy tale book and put it on the table.

They did not have to wait long. An old man came closer and took his hat off to Newkirk.

"Gutten Abend," he sat down and put his hat on the table. "My granddaughter loves fairy tales and I was thinking of reading her Sleeping Beauty."

"Oh, charming book indeed," Newkirk said slipping the package under the hat. "Goldilocks and the Three Bears is my granddaughter's favorite."

There was some small talk to end the meeting and their contact was gone. Without delay, the old couple got up and headed for the door. They walked slowly and mumbling words here and there when a young man got up from his table and stepped on their way.

Spike met the old lady face to face and laughed. "Hey, you're not a lady!"

tbc

* * *

_Thank you, your reviews have been wonderful! Remember to leave a note when you're done ;)_


	8. What bloody man is that?

_**8. What bloody man is that?**_

"And you're not a gentleman," said Newkirk, pointing at him with his purse.

"You let us pass, we're leaving," Carter took Newkirk by one elbow and helped him down the stairs. They got outside but they were not alone.

Spike again stepped on their way. "Dru was right! No like I doubt my girlfriend, but she has a short circuit in the noggin-"

"I'm sorry, young man, but we can't stay to chat with you," Newkirk pushed him aside gently.

"Oh, yes, it's too late and we have to go back home." Carter began to fear this man.

Spike allowed them to put several meters between them before reaching the corner. "Sorry, but we need to talk." He put one hand on Newkirk's chest. "Blimey! They looked so real!" He laughed.

"Bugger off!" Newkirk slapped his hand aside as the old lady's gentle voice made way for his raspy street tone. "Who the bloody blazes are you?"

"Hey, watch it! We're on the same side here, more or less," Spike stepped back. "We need to talk."

"Hey, you don't sound like a German." Carter frowned.

"Sod off, nitwit, this is between me and nan here." He jabbed Carter's chest with his finger.

Newkirk grabbed Spike by one sleeve and pulled his attention back to him. "Lay off me friend and answer the ruddy question. Who are you?"

Carter looked around to make sure no one was passing by.

"Got no time to answer questions." Spike tilted his head. "I'll be in town for a couple of days. Look for the newspapers, read the headlines, and I'll be back to see you later, _Phantom._" He smiled and turned to Carter. "See the little lady gets home safe and sound, old chap." He walked away backwards and blended with the darkness.

"Blimey!" Newkirk whispered.

"Shiver me timbers!" Carter shrugged to see Newkirk's frown. "I got caught in the cockney moment... He disappeared?" He made an attempt to walk towards the shadows but Newkirk stopped him.

"Carter, see how I'm dressed?" He struggled to bring his voice to a calmer level. "I don't know about you, but I don't wanna die in ruddy silk stockings. We've got to go back to the Stalag right now." He dragged him back to the road and they ran all the way to the Stalag.

()o()o()

Hogan stared at his watch, wishing for time to fly. It was never easy to send his men outside, anything could happen; and in fact, things happened quite too often. Their work was hard and dangerous; and tonight, it could be fatal. They still did not know if on top of everything, they were dealing with a serial killer now.

He looked up at the ladder, as though calling his troops back home by the power of his mind. Seconds later, LeBeau came down. He tried to smile but all he could do was shake his head and roll his eyes. Behind him, they heard Kinch giving instructions to the newcomer.

"Be careful, the steps are not even."

The man took out his notebook as soon his feet touched the ground. He walked slowly while glancing at every nook and cranny. "The walls?"

"Reinforced with concrete in some areas, quite sturdy," Kinch said patiently.

"And the ground?"

"Natural rock and soil, it works fine, no leaks or humidity whatsoever."

Hogan turned to LeBeau and frowned.

"It's been like this since we picked him up: the airstrip is too small, the trees too thick, the road to bumpy... Oulala, how long is he going to stay?" He talked in whispers.

"Colonel Hogan?" The man came closer, with an outstretched hand. "Martin Jones, special envoy. I hope London has briefed you on the purpose of my visit. Please, I don't want you to feel under any pressure, I'm here just as a neutral observer."

"Certainly, Mr. Jones. We'll try to make you feel at home." Hogan shook hands with him and smiled at his men.

"Quite an organization you have here. May I meet your men now? I'd like to know about their specific functions."

"Well, you met Sergeant Kinch, our communications operator, and Corporal LeBeau, he is in charge of sabotage and espionage. He's also a great cook and our tailor for disguises and uniforms."

Kinch and LeBeau stared at each other and smiled. So far, there was not much to dislike about this man. He was barely taller than LeBeau, and quite skinny. He wore thick glasses and a suit, hat and duster. He was the regular bureaucratic type, harmless and boring.

"So, how many men do you have for your operations?" Mr. Jones kept on writing.

"This is half the team. The other two are on the field right now."

"Oh, yes, Sergeant Carter and Corporal Newkirk." He wrote something more before looking up at Hogan. "Good, I need some details before I meet them in person."

LeBeau and Kinch were about to excuse themselves until the subject turned towards their friends. Then, they sat at the table. Hogan sat next to them and in front the man.

"What details do you need?"

"Nothing much, their status in the group, their skills... their mental state."

"What's this thing about their mental state?" Hogan was visibly upset. "My men are completely fit for the job and-"

"Please, Colonel, don't take it personally. The reports were specific about their performance under pressure. They implied that there were moments during their last mission when the life of the prisoner in custody was endangered by them more than by outside events."

Hogan glanced at Kinch and LeBeau and shrugged. "I suppose you're aware of the prisoner's identity and activities."

"I'm completely aware of them, Colonel. But there are regulations that must be observed at all times. The prisoner complained of physical abuse and two murder attempts. He mentioned Corporal Newkirk as the aggressor."

"Newkirk was badly injured! He couldn't-"

"LeBeau!" Hogan interrupted him. This was the kind of thing he wanted to avoid. Before he could scold him properly, Carter and Newkirk came down the ladder. They were involved in some sort of argument.

"What if it was him? What do you wanna do, Andrew? Go and tell Klink that we saw the killer in our little excursion into town?"

"But, Newkirk, we can't leave that man wandering around. He's gonna kill someone tonight."

"Well, good thing it was not us," he said turning to see the stranger sitting at the table. "Oi, hello."

"Newkirk, Carter, this is Martin Jones, the observer from London." Hogan was not sure how they would react to the situation. "He's going to take notes on our work."

"Well, glad to meet you, gov'nor," Newkirk took his hand and shook it vigorously. "How's the weather in Merry Ol' England?"

"Weather is fine, I suppose. I'm from New York, actually-"

Carter stepped forward with the same enthusiasm. "New York? I have cousins living in New Jersey, but they go to Central Park all the time and-"

"All right, boys. Why don't you go change?" Hogan wanted to push them away before Mr Jones began to ask questions.

"Oh, please, I'd like to know some facts before they leave." Jones sat down with his notebook. "Who's that killer you were talking about when you came in?"

Carter took a seat next to him. "Oh, that's the weirdest thing that has happened to me since I got here... Well, maybe the second, because the first time it was quite a shock to see all these tunnels and-"

Hogan clapped Carter's arm and smiled. "Tonight, Carter, what happened tonight?"

"Maybe we should talk to you alone first. These matters are always a little shocking and-" Newkirk quietly pleaded with Hogan.

"Oh, that's okay, Corporal Newkirk. That's precisely why I'm here." Mr. Jones smiled widely at Carter. "Who's that killer you were saying?"

"We were ready to come back when this man came directly to Newkirk and told him that they had to talk. The strange thing is that he spoke _that _English, you know Newkirk's English."

"That's not really important," Newkirk shrugged. "The man thought I was someone else-"

"Oh, but he called you _Phantom, _remember?"

"Isn't that Newkirk's code name?" LeBeau frowned.

Kinch and Hogan stared at each other and sighed. Newkirk shook his head and pulled off his wig.

Mr. Jones took more notes. "So, you stumbled upon a complete stranger that knows your code name?"

"We told you it was weird," said Carter with a shrug.

"Did he say anything else?" Hogan asked.

"Only that he wanted to talk to me, and then he left."

"He disappeared," Carter clarified. "That's when we decided to come and tell the colonel."

Hogan shut his eyes, anticipating Mr. Jones' reaction to that. The man stopped writing and took his glasses off. He looked at Carter, then Newkirk and smiled in a sympathetic manner.

"You actually saw the man vanishing into thin air?"

Carter laughed. "Sounds silly when you put it like that. Not that you are silly at all, sir. It' just that, it's hard to believe, even for me-"

"What Carter is trying to say is that yes, the man disappeared." Newkirk took off his lace gloves to light a cigarette. "It was dark, he might've gone anywhere. We didn't stay to find out. We'd got to come back here." The burns in his right hand had changed to a tanner hue, which made them more noticeable now. He could feel Mr. Jones staring at him with curiosity.

"Are you prone to accidents, Corporal Newkirk?"

Newkirk's eyes widened as he turned to Hogan for support. The colonel stepped behind the chair to lay his hands on Newkirk's shoulders.

"Newkirk was seriously wounded in his last mission. He's still healing and needs a lot of rest." He pushed him off the chair. "LeBeau, why don't you help him to change his clothes and then, you both go upstairs to bed."

The Frenchman could not wait to get out of there and almost left Newkirk behind. Both men were more than grateful for being dismissed at the same time. Kinch stared at Hogan for instructions.

"Wounded in action? I suppose that explains the considerable quantity of penicillin that was sent to you in the last six weeks." He checked something in his book and nodded.

"We don't get access to medical services for gunshots in this place. That would be terribly suspicious don't you think?" Kinch said with a shrug.

"Certainly," the man said. "Oh, well. I think that's enough for one night. We have plenty of time to catch up and clarify other facts." He stood up, stretched and yawned. "If I may go to my quarters."

Hogan's eyes grinned. "Well, we don't have facilities for guests but Kinch will take you to a storeroom where you can stay. I don't need to tell you that we're under a prison camp. You cannot go outside under any circumstances, or upstairs without supervision, is that clear?"

"Absolutely," the man smiled. "This is really exciting you know? It's my first prison camp."

Hogan saw Kinch take the man away and could finally breathe.

"Boy, what kind of inspector is that? I'd rather have dinner with Hochstetter," Carter whispered. "Is it me or he was more interested in Newkirk than anything else?"

Hogan sat down again. "Carter, I hate to tell you this, but that man came exclusively to watch you and Newkirk."

"Some inspection innit?" Newkirk came upstairs and jumped to his bed.

"Hey, you didn't fall!" LeBeau almost applauded. "Do you feel better?"

"I think so. That bloke Wilson gave me some pointers about what may be wrong with me. I think I can handle it now." He frowned in deep thought. "Blimey."

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?"

"I was thinking. What if I walk tonight in me dreams? With that chum from London noising about that would not help the gov'nor at all, would it?"

LeBeau stared at him for a moment until an idea came to his mind. "Give me your sewing kit." He took it from Newkirk and looked into the threads and needles. "Voici," said he showing Newkirk a ball of yarn. He cut a string that seemed long enough and tied one end to his ankle. "Now, you tie up the other end to your ankle. If you try to come down of your bunk, I'll be the first one to know." He smiled triumphantly.

"Brilliant, me wicked little mate," Newkirk said.

"You just go to sleep, nothing is going to happen tonight." LeBeau turned to one side and waited for Newkirk to do the same before he closed his eyes.

"That man, Colonel," said Carter shaking, his head. "We carried him around, putting ourselves between him and the Romani. Newkirk almost died for him." His hands clenched into fists. "I thought I had let it go... now I hate him more than ever. No matter if he goes to jail for life... if we flunk this test he wins."

Hogan nodded and tapped Carter's hand. "I know. But we won't flunk anything, Carter. We're doing a hell of a job here. This is not going to take us down."

"What about Newkirk? Are you going to tell him about this?"

"I'd rather not. He's not quite himself these days. He doesn't need to know, yet."

"All right, we'll keep him out of the loop, no problem." Carter got up and turned to Hogan before going to change. "Everything is going to be okay, boy... sir. We'll take care of it."

Hogan met Kinch in the ladder. "Business as usual?"

"Business as usual, sir. Mr. Jones is installed and everybody has gone to bed."

"Thank you Kinch, I'll be in my office. Please, you too go to sleep. If tonight is the prelude of what is yet to come, the next few days we're going to need a lot of energy."

They laughed and went upstairs.

()o()o()

"_Come, my love, sit with me. Give me your worries... I'll sing to you while you sleep..."_

_Newkirk sat down on the floor next to her bed. He rested his head on her lap and closed his eyes. _

"_Here is an island in Slumber Sea ,Where the drollest things are done, And we will sail there if the winds are fair Just after the set of the sun. 'Tis the loveliest place in the whole wide world, Or anyway, so it seems, And the folks there play at the end of each day, In a curious show called Dreams..." *_

_

* * *

_

He waited in the dark for the first peasant coming his way. He had everything planned. The attack would be fast and clean, but noticeable enough to fill next day's headlines. He loved being a headliner... The only regrettable thing was that they would not use his name... William the Bloody.

Steps interrupted his memories. His strained his ear told him that this was one man. Not too young, not too old. That was fine. He hated old blood, no taste at all. He saw the prey pass by. He would give him minutes of advantage, a fair head start; that was the only thing to do with such vulnerable game.

Grubber Wagner, the pharmacist walked down the street. He knew it was late, he knew he should have closed the store earlier. Everybody had warned him to do so. But he had to wait for Fraulein König to make her late evening shopping. Such a lovely lady, but a very slow shopper. When she finally left, the other shops on that street had closed. Everybody was home already. Everybody but Grubber Wagner.

Barking dogs interrupted the quiet night. No one dared to peer through their windows but everybody knew that something was out there. The actual attack took place in a matter of seconds. No screams, no struggle. Once bitten, the victim could only surrender to the inevitable. The night returned to its stillness. No one had seen the attack but the next day, all would read about it in the newspapers. Everybody would talk about the marks of the vampire of Hammelburg.

()o()o()

Carter woke up with a bad feeling. He heard the barrack door open and saw a light come in. Then, there was a whisper.

"Carter?"

"Schultz, is that you?" He shaded his eyes with one hand when the German sergeant aimed the flashlight on his face.

"It happened again."

Carter got up and checked Newkirk's bed. Empty. He sighed.

"LeBeau," he whispered as he jumped off his bed.

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" LeBeau had barely time to ask as Carter pulled involuntarily at his ankle, tied to the string of yarn. He fell heavily to the floor.

"Shh," Carter said.

"Hey! My ankle is tied to yours!" cried LeBeau, startled.

Kinch woke up and saw LeBeau still on the floor. "What happened?"

"Newkirk is gone again," the Frenchman untied his foot and got up.

"We've got to look for him." Carter put on his boots and looked for his coat.

"No need for that, I know where he is." Schultz sighed. "I need a couple of you to come and pick him up."

"You go, I'll talk to the colonel." Kinch got up and stretched. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, as Carter and LeBeau put on their coats and follow Schultz outside.

tbc

* * *

*THE DREAM TOWN SHOW (19th century)  
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (excerpt)

_Thank you, faithful readers, I hope you're having fun with this story ;)_


	9. Ere the bat hath flown

_** 9. Ere the bat hath flown His cloistered flight **_

Carter stared at the string in his hand. He frowned and scratched his head. "How did you do that? How did you manage to untie it from your ankle, tie it to my foot and get out without waking us all?"

"Once a magician," said LeBeau with a shrug. "The important thing is that no one else noticed you outside." He patted Newkirk on the shoulder to cheer him up.

Newkirk did not even move. His eyes were fixed on the sentry tower right beyond the fence. He shook his head. "Lucky me the sentries don't look under the tower. Blimey, mates. I think I've got a problem."

"It's okay, Peter, we're with you all the way," Carter punched him gently on the arm. He could feel his friend's fear and tried to hide his own. "Just try not to worry too much." He finished one string figure and smiled. "Look, the witch's hat."

Newkirk rolled his eyes and went back inside the barrack. Carter and LeBeau stayed on the bench, each one trying to figure out a better way to help their friend.

"Poor Newkirk, these things keep happening to him." LeBeau grimaced.

"I know. I hate seeing him like this. It's making him sick." Carter thought about it for a moment. "We're looking at the problem from the wrong angle. Newkirk needs to put his mind on something else but this streak of bad luck. I think he needs more work to do. Something to keep him busy." Carter made another figure with the string and laughed. "A vampire!"

"That's not a vampire," said LeBeau. "It's _une chauve-souris, _a bat. But yours looks more like a butterfly." He laughed. "Maybe working with us in the tunnels will put him in a better mood."

"Oh, yeah. We still have to repair section T." Carter sighed, rolling the string into a small ball to put it away in his pocket. "Oh, well. Since there's not much more to do outside." They got up and went inside.

()o()o()

"Captain Grunwald, I must speak to you immediately," Sergeant Jürgens said and saluted. "Permission to speak freely, sir."

"Granted."

"Sir, the men are uneasy. Only today three asked to be transferred to the Russian front. They'd rather take their chances in battle than stay here watching that monster."

"That monster is going to give us Russia in less than a year. She'll remain in custody and your men will watch her as long as I say so." He pretended to be busy writing down on a paper.

"But sir, there have been incidents. She has killed four men already. No one else will volunteer to feed her. I'm facing insubordination in our lines."

Grunwald stood up and leaned on his desk. "Sergeant Jürgens, it's your direct responsibility to keep the prisoner alive. Don't blame your incompetence for leadership on her. If there are no volunteers to feed her, it's your problem. Find another way!"

Sergeant Jürgens glared but did not say anything else. He turned on his heels and went outside. He'd been ordered him to find a way, and he would find a way.

()o()o()

Carter crawled out of the mouth of the new section of the tunnel with a bucket full of dirt. He found LeBeau, Steward and Newkirk sitting on the ground taking a break.

"He's been asking stupid questions about how many smokes I do per day, or if I drink too much. I told him it's not his bleeding business." Newkirk chuckled. "Well, not with those words, actually. I don't want the gov'nor to get in trouble because of me mouth, you know?"

"We've been in this hole for three years, why do they send inspectors right now?" Steward said.

"Oui, I know. It's been hard for me too. The salop keeps nosing around while I cook and then, he writes everything I say in that silly notebook."

"Oh, yeah. And what's with the ruddy notes?" Newkirk shook his head. "Carter, did you arrive to Switzerland yet?"

"I think I hear someone talking at the other side, but I don't understand Chinese." Carter laughed and took a sip of water. "Boy, it's stuffy in there."

"I think five minutes is a lot of time," Steward said. "To be digging in that heat, I mean."

"You've got that right, Stu," Carter said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with sleeve. "Who's next, Kinch?"

"Newkirk," Kinch said. "It's two minutes for you."

"Gets shot once and now he's le chouchou du professeur.*" LeBeau said with a smile.

"It's not it," Newkirk said with a clever smirk. "We bet for it in poker."

Kinch saw Carter and LeBeau shake their heads and he shrugged. "Yeah, I should've known better, I know."

Carter kept quiet until Newkirk had entered the tunnel. "Poker, Kinch?"

"I didn't want him to think we don't trust him. He's still healing, two minutes is more than enough." He glanced at his watch and got ready for his turn when a big noise startled him.

"It came from the tunnel!" Steward said.

Carter ran to the entrance. "Newkirk!"

The echo brought a suffocated coughing that came nearer each time. First thing to come out, was Newkirk's hand. Carter and Kinch pulled him towards them.

The Englishman's face was all covered in dirt. He kept his eyes closed while gasping for air. Kinch made him sit down on the ground while LeBeau brought some water. Newkirk tried to rub his eyes but Kinch stopped him.

"Hold his hands down," he said to Carter. "Newkirk don't try to open your eyes yet." He poured fresh water on his face and wiped it off with a cloth. "Take it easy, I'm almost done."

"Stings!" Newkirk managed to say. He struggled to raise his hands but Carter held him still.

"It's okay, Newkirk, just a little dirt in the eyes." Carter smiled to see the blue of Newkirk's eyes sparkling throughout the darkened skin. "Can you see me?"

Newkirk blinked and got his hands back to rub off the remain of the dirt. "I'm all right. Ruddy tunnels. Gophers never go through this, I bet." He stared at his friends and cleaned up his face with more water.

"Take this," Kinch gave him a canteen and sat next to him. "Steward, it's your turn now."

"The soil is very loose in some places," Carter stared at the black hole. "We must be very careful from now on."

Newkirk stood up and shook the rest of the earth from his hair. "I'm off, mates. Before my bad luck gets to you too."

They saw them go. For a moment, no one said a word. Carter went first. He was rather sad. "He's getting worse," he said.

"Maybe he needs more help." LeBeau frowned. "You know, professional help."

"A doctor?" Carter did not want to say _psychiatrist._

Kinch nodded. "Let's give him a little more time. If he doesn't improve, or gets worse, I'll talk with the colonel personally."

()o()o()

Newkirk came out of the barrack still rubbing his eyes. He was weary inside and outside. Maybe he should go to see Wilson. The medic's pep talk always made him feel better. He needed to know that everything was going to get better soon. That there was no such thing as bad luck.

He walked through the yard and found Schultz sitting on a bench near Barrack 4. He had the newspaper in his hand, but his eyes were lost in thought. Newkirk remembered last night's encounter and decided to check on the news.

"Hey, Schultz, mind if I sit?"

"No, please, go ahead."

Newkirk breathed deeply and stared at the men playing volleyball several feet away. He squinted and rubbed his eyes again.

"Something wrong with your eyes?" Schultz emerged from his contemplative mood to pay attention to the Englishman. "They are really red. What happened?"

"Nothing, The day is too bright. I'm fine."

Schultz nodded and went back to his newspaper. "Terrible day in Hammelburg," he mumbled.

"It's that from today? May I?" Newkirk took the paper and read the headlines.

"Horrible, isn't it? And the police doesn't have a clue." Schultz shook his head. "They call him the vampire of Hammelburg. That's really scary."

"But you don't believe in those stories, do you?"

"I don't know. Who knows what these woods hide?" Schultz frowned. "Don't you have stories of vampires in London?"

"Oh, sure." Newkirk cleared his throat and got serious. "One lived next door when I was a wee lad..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he moved from Romania..." Newkirk put a straight face. "A count was he ... Got his name in the tip of me tongue... Dracula? Yes, I think that is the name." He grinned. "Count Dracula. Went to Hollywood to make movies, said he."

"Jolly joker." Schultz narrowed his eyes. "Read the news and see if you can joke about that." He was about to leave when he noticed the puncture marks on Newkirk's neck. "What happened to you? Are those bite marks?"

"Those ruddy mosquitoes, Schultz. You should do something about the plague. They're eating us alive." He pulled his collar up again. He laughed at the sergeant's reaction.

Schultz did not say another word. He gave Newkirk one last glance and went away. The Englishman noticed some concern in his eyes but he did not attach any importance to it. The headlines about another body found near Hammelburg were enough to turn his thoughts to the stranger he and Carter had met the night before.

So many things were going weird in his life lately. He was afraid of the dark, afraid of being alone... afraid of going to sleep and waking up somewhere else... And the woman of his dreams? Who was she? Why did he always meet her in the same place?

The dogs' barking dragged his attention to the kennel. Three German shepherds were right in front of the fence and looking up at nothing in particular. They stopped suddenly and sat down as though someone had instructed them to do so. Then, they lied down and rolled over. They sat up again and wagged their tails. As a last number, they all went into their houses as if responding to a command. Newkirk got curious and walked towards them. The dogs did not react to his presence. He looked down and what he saw chilled him to the bones. On the ground, near the gate, there were marks of bare feet.

"Spooky." Carter's voice made Newkirk jump before he could turn to acknowledge his presence. "Gee, I'm sorry. Did I scare you?"

"What? No. What's spooky?" Newkirk gasped with one hand over his heart. He felt the beat coming slowly to a normal rate.

"That guy Jones. He's not in the storeroom or anywhere in the tunnel. It's like he vanished into the air."

"Wishful thinking. He's probably at Klink's office taking notes on his ruddy notebook." Newkirk walked back to the bench. His legs were shaking. "Carter, have you noticed anything funny about those dogs?"

"Like what? They seem pretty friendly, as always." He sat with him. "You're too jumpy this morning, aren't you?"

"To say the least." Newkirk took a deep breath. "If I'd tell you half of it. But you'd probably think I'm going mad."

"I was there the other night, remember," Carter said it in whispers. "I don't say anything because the others would make fun of me. You know how they are. But I told you that spirits are everywhere. I'm not superstitious, but I believe."

Newkirk stared at him. Honesty was Carter's second nature. He knew that in the event that something else arrived, he might have a friend to trust. Newkirk smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Andrew."

They were quiet for a while. Newkirk sank into his troubled mind looking for answers. He did not feel Carter leave. It was Colonel Hogan's voice that brought him back to the Stalag. "Newkirk, the underground is coming with some information. They'll meet us at the railway station tonight. You and me, okay?"

"Tonight?" repeated Newkirk with a nod.

"Kinch told me about the incident down there. Are you okay?" Hogan looked into the reddish eyes for an honest answer.

"Never better," Newkirk smiled. "I feel like an idiot... Never been so clumsy in me life."

"It's not you, Newkirk." Hogan sat down next to him. "There's nothing wrong with you. Believe me. It's just a series of coincidences, all right?" Hogan knew that he was talking to the wall. "We'll get through this and you'll be okay."

Newkirk was going to agree but something got his attention at that very moment. "Sir?" He pointed to the center of the yard. His sight was still a little weak and he had to blink. "Who's talking to Schultz?"

"Dammed!" Hogan sprung up. "Mr. Jones!"

"Oh, ja. Colonel Hogan cooperates with us all the time. He's a good friend to Kommandant Klink... almost as close as I am." Schultz smiled down at this little man asking so many questions and writing something in his little notebook.

"Entschuldigung, my memory is not like it used to be. What barrack did you say you were from, Corporal-?"

"Olsen!" Hogan came just in time. "Where have you been?" He turned around and Kinch was already there, breathless and kind of embarrassed.

"We were supposed to do that work at the other side of the-" He was still looking for a word to say when Hogan interrupted him.

"Yeah, the other side of the-" he turned Jones' back on Schultz and pushed him to the barrack. "These kids, if you don't push them, they just skip work all day long."

Schultz laughed and nodded. "Ja, they remind me of my own sons. Good boys all of them, but you must be behind them all the way."

"Sure, all the way," Hogan smiled. He was about to leave when the German sergeant took him by one arm. "Colonel," he whispered, "what are we going to do with Newkirk? He's not doing any better. I think he's having a relapse from that illness one month ago... Remember? The gypsy curse."

Hogan seemed unable to forget that. Every time he was ready to move on, something or someone would bring the theme back on the headlines.

"I know, Schultz. Newkirk has been working very hard these few days. You know how it is, too much, too soon. He'll pull through in no time." He nodded. "Thanks for your concern. We're watching over him."

"Aren't we all? He keeps walking in his sleep. If one of my men sees him first..."

"Yes, I know, I know. And I'm honestly grateful for your interest." He took a deep breath and went back to the barrack.

()o()o()

"Mr. Jones, I thought I had been perfectly clear when I say no wandering around unsupervised." Hogan walked from the door of his office to the window and back. "Luckily for you, Kommandant Klink went out this morning and Sergeant Schultz-"

"Sergeant Schultz was more than useful." Mr. Jones let his notebook aside. "Do you think that keeping me underground everything will be daffodils and daisies? I came here to inquire about specific complaints, not to live the life of a hermit in a cave."

"I told London that it was a mistake. This is a prison camp, not a country day resort. We can't have guests."

"I'm not a guest. I'm an investigator. The charges are serious. I need to address them directly with those involved. But I have the impression that you're trying to prevent it."

_Just the impression?_ Hogan thought. If he could, he would send this man walking back to England. "My men have gone through a lot these last few weeks. They did their job the best they could under adverse circumstances. I can't let you come to give them grief for what did not happen."

"Your men mistreated the prisoner in custody. Sergeant Carter agreed to gamble with his life in a ridiculous gunfight. There were threats of relinquishing him to a bunch of rebels and Corporal Newkirk aimed his pistol against him at least twice. Not to mention that he was utterly violent and abusive all the way."

"I'm not going to defend my men's actions anymore. They did what they had to do and that's enough for me."

"Unfortunately, Colonel, it's not enough for London." Mr. Jones stood up. "I need to talk with them separately. There's nothing to fear, if you trust your men, you must let them talk to me." He took his notebook and smiled. "And if there are no further matters to discuss, I shall continue with my observations. Don't worry, I'll stay indoors this time."

Hogan sat at his desk with anger still burning in his chest. If he could have, he would have broken something. But showing off his temper would not help Carter's and Newkirk's case. They should defend themselves from now on. With his outspoken manners, Carter could talk his way out of the problem. But Hogan feared for Newkirk. In his present state, he might not have a chance with that man.

Hogan's only hope was to send Carter first and trust that the sergeant's testimony would be enough to clarify everything. He would keep Newkirk aside till the last moment.

tbc

* * *

_* The teacher's pet_

_As always, thank you for your comments. Don't forget to review before you leave ;)  
_


	10. Unnatural troubles

_** 10 Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles**_

LeBeau and corporal Ortega were dusting and organizing the rec hall when Schultz came in. They waited for him to order them to attention but the sergeant just ignored them as he walked straight to the book section.

"Don't mind us," LeBeau said, jokingly. "We're just cleaning up a little." They both smiled and went on with their work.

Schultz went through the titles of the little bunch of books they had there. The prisoners rarely went to that section. Most of the books were in German, and the few journals in English were dated editions of _Popular Mechanics, _censored to the extreme.

"What are you looking for, Schultz? The latest of _The Reader's Digest_?"

"Es muss hier sein, irgendwo..." _It has to be here, somewhere..._ Schultz talked to himself.

"What is it? May I help?" LeBeau put his duster aside and began to read the titles of the books. "What's the name of the book, do you know?"

"_Vampire Hunter's Manual__,_ "Schultz said without stopping.

"Oulala, heavy stuff," LeBeau said. He kept reading until the title appeared behind a bunch of magazines. He handed it to the sergeant. "What's in that book? Are you chasing vampires now?"

"I hope not," he looked at the index, and then, leafed through the book. He found the page he needed and began to read. "Aha, ja, ja... Natürlich, ja, ja..."

LeBeau sat on the floor, staring curiously at Schultz. "Are you okay, Schultz? Maybe you need a vacation... Watching prisoners all day long is not quite fun, is it?"

"Ja, aha. Aha, ja..."

"We're leaving tonight for Monaco. Do you want to come? Casinos open past midnight."

"Aha, ja... What?" He turned to see LeBeau laughing at him. "You're going where?"

"I was kidding. What's so important in that book, anyway?"

"Here," he showed him the page he was reading. "It says how to recognize the victim of a vampire."

"Très bien, you never know when that will come in handy." LeBeau sounded terribly condescending.

"You don't understand, LeBeau..." Schultz looked around to make sure that Ortega was not listening. He lowered his voice just in case. "It's Newkirk..."

"Quoi?" LeBeau laughed. "Newkirk is a vampire?"

"Shhh! Not a vampire. But I think he's been bitten by one." He pointed at the book. "Look at the signs."

"Je ne lis pas l'allemand," LeBeau shrugged and pushed the book aside.

"_Sleepwalking, bite marks, paleness, nightmares, exhaustion..."_ Schultz read and shook his head. "_Sensitivity to light, _have you seen his eyes? They were so red. Poor Newkirk could not stop rubbing them."

LeBeau tried not to laugh. He could not tell Schultz about the incident in the tunnels. He just nodded. "Well, I don't think he's in any danger, Schultz. Those are old wives' tales. I wouldn't pay too much attention to them."

"All right," the sergeant said, getting up. "You keep doing your job and I'll do mine."

"Don't get mad, Schultzie. We all like Newkirk. We don't want anything bad happening to him." LeBeau smiled. "But I don't think he's turning into a vampire-"

"Not yet, and I'll make sure that it doesn't happen. Don't worry about anything, LeBeau. I'll defend Newkirk. That vampire is not going to take him away." He closed the book noisily and went out.

LeBeau glanced at Ortega, who shook his head and smiled. "Ese alemán está loco."

"Évidemment," LeBeau laughed too and went on with the dusting.

()o()o()

Schultz walked and read at the same time. He was so absorbed by the book that he never noticed guards or prisoners stepping aside before he stumbled on them. He came close to Barrack 2 and saw Newkirk coming out.

"Oh, Newkirk," he greeted him with fatherly concern. "What are you doing here? Don't you want to go to sleep? You look really tired."

"I am tired," Newkirk said. After digging and hammering, his arms and legs felt like blocks of cement. "But not sleepy at all."

"Does it happen to you often? Sleeplessness?"

"Well... maybe." He frowned and narrowed his eyes. "Do you feel all right? I think the sun is beginning to affect your brain, Schultz."

"Do you think the sun is too strong?" Schultz kept the book open on the same page he had read to LeBeau. "I see..."

His scrutiny made Newkirk very uncomfortable. The Englishman had had enough. "You see what?"

"Nothing... Are you nervous or...," he read from the book, "irritable?"

"I wasn't until I ran into you!"

"Maybe you should eat something or sleep-"

"I'm not bloody hungry or bloody sleepy! It's only ten in the morning for freaking's sake!"

"Newkirk!" Hogan stood at the barrack door with a severe expression. "Get inside, now."

The corporal grimaced as he understood that he was in trouble. He rolled his eyes and obeyed. Hogan looked at Schultz and shrugged.

"He favors his mother, same temper," the colonel said with a grin.

Schultz was convinced now. The young man was in trouble, but he would defend his soul to the last consequences.

()o()o()

"Antagonizing the guards? Not a smart move, Corporal," Hogan said, sitting at his desk. "Is there anything I should know?"

Newkirk stood by the door, trying to make sense of the things that kept happening to him. "I don't know what's going on, sir. This is complete madness."

"Newkirk, you've been through a lot-"

"You keep saying that but I don't see it." He shook his head. "I don't feel there is anything wrong with me... and then, something weird happens, out of the blue."

"Like what?"

"Oh, no. You ain't going to get me talking about that." Newkirk leaned against the wall. "You would think I'm totally balmy."

"All right, listen. I have faith in you. I trust you're going to overcome whatever is bothering you. But you too have to trust me, and your friends. We'll help you through this, okay?"

Newkirk nodded. "I trust you, Gov'nor. Thank you."

"Good, now go and sleep a little." He smiled. "With all of us around, there is no chance of you sleepwalking."

Newkirk sighed. "I'll take your word for it."

()o()o()

The wind woke him up. The rapping sound woke him up. He still had his eyes closed while many feet tramped around him. Next, it was the moaning; sad and painful like people bearing a heavy burden. The noise grew and grew until he opened his eyes. Then, it stopped abruptly.

Newkirk gasped. It was already dark and suddenly cold. His body was still numb when he saw the barrack door opening with a slam. Newkirk turned around. Everything was dark and he was alone. He began to sit up but his body did not obey. He turned his head to the window. The shutters were open and the moonlight framed a silhouette watching him.

It was dark and still, like a statue. It began to move forward so quietly that Newkirk thought he had gone deaf. It did not walk but float, very slowly, toward his bed. Although he was in the upper bunk, the entity came right to his side. He wanted to scream, he wanted to move, but at this point, his arms and legs would not respond at all. Two yellow eyes glowed and one bony hand came out of the darkness. Newkirk felt cold air rushing all over him when the hand lied upon his forehead. The entity disappeared.

_...you're going to die today..._

Newkirk did not hear the words. They formed inside his mind while a breath of chilly air passed through him. He knew he was asleep and struggled to wake up. Before he could do anything else, an invisible hand squeezed his left hand. It hurt but he could not scream. The wind rushed against the wooden wall and the trees moaned...

()o()o()

Hogan shook Newkirk one last time and breathed easily when he saw him open his eyes. "It's okay, he just woke up," he said to his men. The Englishman stared at him with curiosity. "You were having a nightmare."

Newkirk stretched and sat up slowly. Everybody was looking at him. "At least, I didn't go outside in this storm."

"What storm, it's sunny outside." LeBeau frowned.

"Sunny? Did I sleep all night through?" He turned to look through the door.

"Of course not, you just slept for twenty minutes," Kinch shrugged. "We began to worry when you started talking in your dreams."

"Me? Talking in me dreams? May I know what I said?"

"No!..." Carter smiled at his friend's startled glare. "I mean, you said _No, no!_ Over and over again."

"It took us a while to wake you up. I was about to call Wilson," Hogan said. "Do you feel better now?"

"I suppose so. Glad that it was only a dream, I guess." Newkirk brushed his hair with his hand and felt a sting in his palm. He looked at it. Carved into his flesh, there was a strange scar.

"What is it, Newkirk?" Carter came closer. "What's in your hand?" He took Newkirk's hand to see.

"Looks like a tree," said LeBeau.

"Or a fork of lightning," Kinch said.

Carter stared at it for a while. "I'd say it's a chicken's foot."

Newkirk claimed back his hand and jumped down off his bed. "Happy to see that you're having fun with this. It hurts."

Hogan examined the wound. "It's a little deep. How did that happen?"

"I dreamed how it happened, but you wouldn't think it's possible..." He had to struggle a little to prevent a panic attack. "It's just one more piece of the puzzle. I've never been good with puzzles." Newkirk staggered. "I'm getting scared here."

Hogan dismissed the problem with a tap on Newkirk's shoulder. "It's okay, see to it before it gets worse. And the rest of you," he said, "stop the games and focus on more important things. Where's Jones?"

"Downstairs, with Olsen." Kinch went for some coffee. "Do you want me to go and keep an eye on him?"

"Not necessary. It's Carter's turn with Mr. Sympathy."

"Oh, well. See you later, guys." Carter walked to the ladder.

"Remember, Carter. Think before you talk." Kinch saluted him.

"Newkirk, you stay away from the tunnel until I say so." Hogan softened his tone. "Listen, we're juggling a hundred things right now. But we're paying attention. You're not alone in this. You know that, right?"

Newkirk closed his eyes and nodded. "I'll try not to panic."

"I need to get some details for tonight's excursion. We'll talk later." Hogan nodded to Kinch and went to his office.

Kinch sat at the table. "Come, Newkirk, let's do something about that hand."

()o()o()

"So, did you or didn't you open fire against civilians?"

Carter kept a nice smile and a quiet attitude. "One civilian and he asked for it...I mean, really, he asked me to open fire on him." He shrugged, trying to peep at what Jones was writing.

"You admit that you gambled with the prisoner's life, then?"

"I wouldn't call it gambling, Mr. Jones. Technically, I thought I was going to lose." His laugh did not impress the inquirer.

"Did you see Corporal Newkirk threatening the prisoner's life in any way?"

Carter smiled nervously. The tunnel felt much warmer all of a sudden. "He, well... He might have been a little... upset with t-the prisoner." He did not like the man's expression when he wrote down more notes.

"Does he gets _upset_ too often?"

"Who, Newkirk?" he laughed. "He's an entertainer, he tells a lot of jokes... The guards call him _jolly __joker_... and... he's an overall nice guy. We like him very much..."

"So, when he aimed at the prisoner, you thought he would not shoot?"

Carter was quiet for a moment. He went back in time, Newkirk with his gun, ready to finish off that horrible creature. How Carter felt about it and what he thought Newkirk would have done were two separate things. He pondered his answer. The simple truth could sink Newkirk into more trouble than he was now. Carter took a deep breath and nodded. "Sir, I know that Newkirk would never shoot a defenseless man."

Mr. Jones looked deeply into his eyes. Carter seemed a nice man, had an honest face... Whether he was lying or twisting the truth, that would be hard to prove. "Very well then,"said he as he closed his notebook. "Now, I'm almost done."

"You're leaving?" Carter tried to hide his evident bliss.

"As soon as I talk to Corporal Newkirk." He put his reading glasses away and smiled widely. "Do you have any idea where I could find him?"

()o()o()

"_The Tolaeth,_" Newkirk said absently.

Kinch came to sit with him at the table. "The what?" he said, as he set the first aid-kit down on the table between them.

"Oh, it's a-" Newkirk cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "An omen of death."

Kinch chuckled. "Peter Newkirk, are you becoming superstitious now?" He took Newkirk's hand in his and began to clean it up with alcohol.

Newkirk winced. "No... well, it's a Welsh legend. You know, me mom was Welsh..." He bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. "The night she d-died... They took me and me sister to the apartment downstairs. I was young, but I knew that something really bad was happening at home... I couldn't sleep and there were noises..."

"Noises? What kind of noises?" Kinch frowned.

"Steps... screams... " Newkirk shuddered. "Anyway, the lady of the apartment, our neighbor... she came to sit with me... She said that the Tolaeth appeared when someone was about to die. When you hear it, you can't see it... and if you see it, you can't hear it... and when it touches you, you can't see it or hear it."

"Nice legends you people have." Kinch poured sulfa on Newkirk's palm. "But you're not starting to believe in that stuff now."

"Come on, Kinch, tell me this is just a figment of my imagination." Newkirk sizzled with pain. "First, it was the ruddy noise... then, there she was... when she took me hand I couldn't see her or hear her anymore..." he made a pause. "You don't think I did this to meself, do you?"

"Carter is right, it looks like a chicken's foot." Kinch smiled but Newkirk did not respond. Kinch finished with the first aids and looked at him. "Newkirk, I don't know what to say. This is completely new for me. I'm a practical man, you know? What I see is that you're very stressed out, and that has to surface in some ways."

"I don't know, Kinch. Sometimes, I think I'm going mad. This is not like me at all, I'm really scared!"

"Don't be, man. We're right here with you. Everything is all right."

Newkirk shook his head. "Kinch, before that thing went away, I heard a voice that told me that I'm gonna die today."

Dry thunder rumbled outside. The wind brought dark clouds and the approaching storm charged the air with electricity. Some wires got loosed in the yard and began to shoot a lot of sparks. Kinch and Newkirk ran outside. The staff car had entered the gates towards Klink's office. A wire fell down just at the same time the car was passing by. It landed over its roof and began to twist furiously.

The driver hit the brakes. Kinch ran towards him to prevent him from touching the doors.

"What's going on here?" Klink yelled above the thunder.

Newkirk saw Kinch run for a wooden pole. He turned to the car. "Remain in your seats!" he urged the kommandant and his driver.

Kinch raised the wire as high as he could as the same time that Newkirk opened the door and helped Klink out. He did the same with the driver but before he could let go the door, the wire slipped from the pole and grazed the body of the car.

"Watch out!" Kinch yelled at Newkirk.

Newkirk just felt the blow when he was thrown backwards. Everything went black from there.

tbc

* * *

_**The Tolaeth:** Welsh Folklore._

_Are you scared yet? LOL Let me know ;)  
_


	11. I bear a charmed life

_Am I going to fast? I hope not. You've been so generous with your reviews that I think you don't deserve to be left in such a cliffhanger for too long. :)_

_CPR as we know it was not perfected until several years later. The procedure described here is one of many that were used during wartime. Maybe it is not the best but in my story it works perfectly ;)  
_

_

* * *

_

_**11. I bear a charmed life**_

Newkirk coughed for air before opening his eyes. He did not try to move while waves of pain and nausea washed over him. He realized he was on the ground, lying on his belly, with his head turned to one side and resting on his hands. He felt someone pressing his back at rhythmical intervals. One hand touched his neck.

"I feel the pulse." Wilson sat beside him to catch some air. "Let's turn him over. Very slowly."

Newkirk felt the sun in his eyes and blinked. Carter held his hat over him to shield him from the bright light. "How're you doing, buddy?"

"What-" Newkirk found it difficult to coordinate words and thoughts.

"You were hit by a thousand volts."

"Not that many, Carter. Thank Goodness." Kinch came from behind. "You scared the hell out of me, man. Are you better?"

"Don't crowd him." Wilson said. "Can you sit up?"

Newkirk nodded and a dozen hands came to hold him and push him and finally steady him. Hogan crouched in front of him and touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I... think... so," he said. "Got a headache."

"It's normal, with all the electricity going through your body." Wilson checked his pulse.

"How long was I-"

"Unconscious?" LeBeau finished the sentence for him. "Almost one minute."

Carter nodded. "Your heart stopped and everything."

"It was less than thirty seconds," Kinch tried to soften the incident for Newkirk's sake.

"Well, basically, you were dead for thirty seconds!"

"Carter!" Hogan and Kinch scolded him at the same time.

Newkirk turned to Kinch and went paler that before. "Blimey, Kinch-!"

"It's just a coincidence. Newkirk, don't even think of that."

Hogan caught their private conversation and frowned. Kommandant Klink came from behind and they stopped. By then, Newkirk was ready to get back on his feet. He was shaky but stable. Carter held his arm, as if determined not to let him go.

Newkirk's memory had come back in flashes and he realized that he had just saved Klink's life. To add up awkwardness to a very awkward situation, the kommandant's attitude seemed to have softened all of a sudden. Newkirk had never seen him so moved by a situation.

"Corporal? Are you all right?" He spoke softly, as if he were afraid of hurting him with the tone of his voice. "What you did was tremendously reckless, but you saved my life. I have no way to-"

Newkirk gathered strength from pure adrenaline. "Sir, I wasn't thinking straight." He grinned to see Klink's relief. Neither of them wanted to bond over this incident.

"Sergeant Wilson," said Klink, "make sure this man gets proper care. Corporal, you're excused from any activity for the next seven days including roll calls." He saluted and went back to his office. Only Hogan, who was closer, noticed that he was still shaking.

"Well, everybody go back to whatever you were doing." Hogan turned to Newkirk. "You may rest for the day, Carter can come with me."

"Oh, no sir, please. I can't stay here on me own. Much less go to sleep." Newkirk stared at him pleadingly. "Please, sir, you've got to take me with you."

"All right," said Hogan with a shrug. "Let's see how you do the rest of the day. Wilson?"

"No objections. I think he should be quiet for a while but we can't tie him up to his bunk, can we?"

"LeBeau tried that already. Didn't work," said Carter. "Come, Newkirk, stay out of the sun."

Hogan took a deep breath. He saw Kinch turning around and he stopped him. "Kinch, what was that about? Did you know anything about Newkirk? Can you tell me?"

"Well, how much harm can it do?" Kinch walked with Hogan. "Now, Colonel, you must keep your mind open."

()o()o()

Newkirk was getting restless in the barrack. Every time he sat down, the walls seemed to close on him. He shuffled his cards and tried to think of a good game of Solitary but his mind was not into it. He stood up.

"Hey, where are you going?" LeBeau stopped his sewing. "You're supposed to take it easy the rest of the day."

"I'll take it easy outside, all right?" Newkirk stepped out.

Carter sighed and left his magazine on the table. "I'll go with him."

Newkirk sat on a bench far from the barrack. He could still feel the electricity running through his veins and his hands shook a little. He saw Carter walking towards him and sighed. "You lads won't give me a break, will you?"

The young sergeant sat next to him. "You think you're the only one shaking here? When we saw you jumping up in the air... Boy, that was scary." He leaned his head against the wall. "Wilson couldn't find your pulse, you weren't breathing... I thought you were dead."

"I know... I'm sorry." Newkirk smiled. "I don't remember anything, but I suppose it was scary for everybody." He took a cigarette and looked at Schultz, who was coming out of the mess hall with a sorrowful expression. "Hey, Schultzie, you look like the Germans are losing the war already."

"Worse. The milk went bad and there is no more in the kitchen." He sighed and sat down. Newkirk and Carter had to squeeze into a corner.

"Why? Are the cows going on strike now?" Carter chuckled.

"Something like that. They're not giving milk since last night's winds."

"Tough." Newkirk put the cigarette in his mouth and clicked his lighter.

"Hey, look at the flame, it's blue!" Carter stared at it with surprise.

"What about that?" Newkirk laughed. "It doesn't have anything to do with the stroke of lightning, does it?"

"Of course not. It's something else." Carter frowned. "Where have I heard about that?"

"Milk gone bad, cows refusing to give milk..." Schultz was deep in thought. Then, his eyes widened. "Fire turns blue... Ach du liebe!"

Carter too looked startled. "Geez!"

"What? What?" Newkirk had to put out his lighter before it burned his fingers.

"Eine Hexe!"

"A witch?" Newkirk chuckled. "Give me a break."

"No, it's true. My Nanny told us stories back in the farm. Those are the signs of a witch moving next door." Carter was rather amazed. Then, he met Newkirk's eyes. The Englishman was far from being amused. "Of course, that's just a fairy tale..."

"You've got to tell me that? Here I am, a nervous wreck, nearly fried by a lighting bolt and you come up with those ruddy stories about witches moving into the neighbourhood?" He stood up and tossed his cigarette. "Some friends you are!"

Carter and Schultz looked as he walked away. They felt bad for him but the highlight of the day would have to be the witch that was or was not there.

"Poor Newkirk..." Carter grimaced.

"Ja, this is getting really creepy." Schultz nodded.

Carter grinned suddenly. "Are there any horses nearby?"

"Looking for hag knots?... Ludwig Brahms' old mare died last month..." Schultz chuckled. "Do you want to come to the kitchen and check if the yeast for the bread isn't rising*?"

"Swell!"

()o()o()

"Colonel, who's that bloody man from London?"

Hogan turned around, looking for their underground contact. The railway station was half empty, so it should not be hard to recognize the person as soon as they arrived. Newkirk's question was too direct to ignore it.

"An inspector, Newkirk. That's all you need to know. The boys in London are a little concerned with our expenses and they're making sure we're worth the money they're paying for us."

"They're paying to keep us in a POW camp? Just marvellous." Newkirk chuckled.

"He's been talking with everybody, but you don't have to worry about that, okay?" Hogan said. "He's leaving soon."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"What are you protecting me from?"

"I'm sorry." Hogan smiled. "Things have gone a little rough for you lately and I-"

"You've been talking to Kinch, haven't you?" Newkirk shook his head. "Now you too think I'm gone crackers."

"Of course not. In fact, Kinch is beginning to think that there are no coincidences in the things that are happening to you."

"And what do you think?"

"I'm very sceptical, Newkirk. We're exposed to very stressful situations. You must be going through a reaction from the things you had to do in your last mission." He kept his eyes on the crowd. "I'm trying to keep my mind open. I can't help being concerned about you and I'm looking for some better way to help you out."

That was not the answer Newkirk was hoping for. They were nowhere near a solution as long as they thought that this was all in his head. He shrugged and stared at one small group of people coming in. One girl in particular attracted his attention. "Hey, Gov'nor. I think that bird matches the description."

"Stay here and watch my back."

Newkirk looked at Hogan walking towards the girl. He turned around to make sure no one else was paying attention. So far, so good. He was in alert with all his senses, just as he was used to when working the mission. Then, it was a surprise to find that a man had sat down next to him so quietly.

"Don't move, you're surrounded." The man whispered to Newkirk and he pressed what felt like a weapon against his side.

Hogan introduced himself to the lady in question. She, a young activist, was thrilled to meet Papa Bear in person.

"I have the new developments on the secret weapon." She gave him an envelope. "The egg is in Nuremberg. Your contact there will give you more details. Their address is inside along with several details on the egg."

"Is it an egg? A plain, white egg?" Hogan peeped inside the envelope.

"I know it sounds crazy. It gave us a lot of laughs at our place, but apparently, it's extremely important for the Allies." She smiled. "Let's hope that it'll be recognizable enough for you to find it without problems."

Hogan smiled back.

Newkirk was about to jump, make his move against the man and the pistol on his ribs. His muscles tensed.

"Don't think about it, or your chief will get it."

"My chief? Who the blazes speaks like that," Newkirk chuckled. "I think I know you."

"No, you don't."

"Oh, yeah? I never forget a voice." Newkirk took advantage of the little moment of hesitation to grab the hand with the pistol. There was no pistol. "A ruddy finger?" He laughed. "I bet there's no one else but you."

Spike twisted his hand and locked it on Newkirk's wrist so hard that it almost made him scream. "All right, cockney boy, I'll make a deal with you. Don't move and I won't break your bones one by one. Be bloody sure that I'm very capable of doing it so fast that no one would notice you're dead until next Christmas." His voice was still calm but Newkirk did not feel tempted to test his sincerity.

"Got all me attention, Oliver _Twisted_." He felt his hand being squeezed. He bit his lower lip to suppress the scream. "G-got me curious too," he gasped, "what is it what you want?"

"First of all, the name is William, the Bloody... or Spike," He grinned. "You'll behave if you don't want me to use your friend over there to show you why they gave me that name. And in case you're wondering, yes, I do have the strength of ten men. A fact, no need to brag about that."

"Fair enough." Newkirk felt the lock loosening a little. "Back in business. What can I do you for, gov'nor?"

"Don't patronize me. I know you're trying to make time for him to come back. We can't talk details in here. You must come to Nuremberg with me. I need you to steal something for me."

"Me? To Nuremberg? Just like that?"

"Well, that's what you do, don't you? Steal stuff."

"I'm not freelance," he chuckled. "Plus, I'm in a prison camp. We don't get free passes every other weekend."

"Listen, I don't care how you do it." Spike glared at him with cold eyes. "Did you read the news today? It's been five victims so far. Well, keep the score, Artful Dodger, it'll be one every day until you decide to come with me... Maybe I'll get closer to your friends... You know what it's like, all together in the same place. No way to escape... It will be a blast..." He let go Newkirk's hand. He saw the mark on his palm and laughed. "Bloody hell, she found you after all. I bet you've having the time of your life, haven't you?"

"What do you know about this?" Newkirk was suddenly interested.

"Now you want to talk." Spike got up. "I'll tell you what. I'll drop by to visit you tomorrow night. In the meantime stay away from the forest, the dogs, and the dreams." He shook his head. "I wonder why she hasn't killed you yet."

In the time that took Newkirk to get up from the bench, Spike was already gone. Hogan was back, putting the envelope in his coat pocket. He noticed some agitation in the Englishman but decided to let it go.

"Interested in a field trip?"

Newkirk frowned. "Nuremberg?"

"How did you know?" Hogan stared at him warily.

"It seems a very popular place all of a sudden," he grimaced.

"What is it?" Hogan sat next to him. "Can you tell me what's going on with you?"

Newkirk shrugged. "It's been a thing after the other," he sighed, "I just feel out of sorts. Maybe you should take someone else with you."

"I could keep that in mind, but I think you need to make a comeback and soon." Hogan looked at him and smiled. "These things take time. You should not let a few weird incidents ruin you life. You're essential in my team, you know that."

Yes, he did and that did not make him feel any better...

tbc

* * *

_*Signs of a witch moving to your neighbourhood, you may find them in any site about witches :)_

_Thank you for keep on reading. Please let me know ;)_


	12. Come like shadows, so depart

_All right, I hope this one gets to you. This site has been wacky all week long. I can't even see my avatar in my reviews! Oh, well, I hope someone could actually read this chapter and tell me what they think. ;)_

* * *

_**12 Come like shadows, so depart!  
**_

The next day did not come as fast as Newkirk would have wanted. He spent hours staring at the ceiling and listening to the scratching sound that crawled up and down. This time, he was careful not to wake up anyone. After his encounter with Spike, he did not want to take chances with the vampire coming after his friends. There was much at stake and few options to choose from.

"Today," said Klink to the prisoners assembled for roll call, "activities must be divided in groups. The works on the road must continue. But yesterday's storm left the camp without electricity and the coal reserves are not enough to provide heat for the stove at the mess hall. We need volunteers to go for logs to the forest. Two prisoners will be enough. Sergeant Schultz will supervise. I don't need to say that this work is for all of us in the Stalag and won't hurt the Geneva Convention. Dismissed!"

Hogan shrugged as they went back to the barrack. "Okay, boys, the shovel or the axe, which one do you prefer?"

"I'll go to the forest," LeBeau said. "It's a nice day for a walk."

"I'll go too." Newkirk stepped forward. "I won't stay alone in this place."

Carter patted him on the shoulder. "Fresh air will do you good."

Hogan agreed and talked in secret to LeBeau. "Don't leave him alone."

()o()o()

Hogan examined the papers. There was nothing new about the egg. The thing was in some safe box in a museum.

"It shouldn't be a problem to get it for the Allies." Kinch sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Working on the wee hours at the radio station required a good amount of caffeine.

"Under normal circumstances, yes." Hogan sat down. "I would even send Newkirk alone or with someone else. But-"

"I know what you mean. He hasn't just been acting weird, it's like bad luck is after him deliberately."

"Oh, come on, Kinch. You too? It's just been one coincidence after another. It wouldn't be a big thing if you guys weren't on Newkirk's back, waiting for him to screw up again." Hogan leaned his elbows on the table. "Especially you, Kinch. I thought you were on my side in this one."

"And I am but," Kinch sighed, "I told you what Newkirk said right before yesterday's incident. It got me thinking."

Hogan shook his head. "I don't know. I try to be really open minded but these things are beyond my comprehension. Give me things I can touch, things I can see." He stood up. "Anyway, I have to come up with a plan for me and Newkirk to go to Nuremberg for a couple of days without being noticed. I'll be in my office if hell breaks loose."

()o()o()

Schultz began the hike with enthusiasm and energy. A walk on the mountain seemed to be what everybody needed. The day was clear, the sun was bright, the birds were chirping. Nothing could go wrong on such a beautiful day.

"...and on Sundays, I prepared a big basket and headed for the mountains with une nana..."

"The same nana every time?" Newkirk grinned maliciously.

"My lips are sealed. Je suis un chavalier."

They kept talking and walking until they noticed that Schultz was not with them.

"Come on, Schultz, how do you expect us to get there if you keep falling behind?" Newkirk asked him.

"Get where, anyway?" LeBeau frowned.

"I think... we just... got there... Here is... as good a there... as any other there..." Schultz gasped for air. "Look, we have enough trees around." He sat on a fallen trunk and put his rifle aside. "Go on start chopping," he said while looking for his canteen. "And Newkirk, don't exhaust yourself. If the Big Shot knows you came along, he will put me on the night shift for a month."

"Easy, mate. Manual labor is not me cuppa tea, anyway."

Newkirk took one axe and LeBeau took the other. Each one chose a tree to begin with the chopping. They would work slowly so the day would last longer.

A few minutes after the first branches, Newkirk felt someone staring at him. He turned to LeBeau but the Frenchman was busy with his own tree. He looked around and saw a dog, a black German shepherd with yellow eyes glowing in the frame of a very dark corner of trees.

"One of our dogs got loose?" He asked.

"What did you say?"

Newkirk turned to LeBeau. "That dog, is it one of ours?"

"What dog?"

"That one over the-" He turned again and the dog was gone. "I should've known," he chuckled. He shook his head, ready to put the event behind. He reached for his axe and the dog was next to it. Newkirk was startled. But somehow, he managed to keep calm. He called for LeBeau but no one answered. He realized that he was alone. "Blimey, where's everybody gone now?" He sighed. If this was another of his dreams, he would feel terribly ridiculous in the morning. He heard the dog whining behind him. "Don't tell me. You want me to follow you," he said. "Well, Lassie, show me the way, then."

The dog went into the forest, through the trees. Its pace was neither fast nor slow; just fair enough for Newkirk to follow it. Suddenly, the forest thickened and the sun did not shine anymore. The day had turned into night and the wind began to blow among the leaves. Newkirk could hear it moaning in the branches along with the owls and other creatures of the night. Wolves howled near and far.

Newkirk came to a path. He walked for what seemed like hours until the dog stopped. At the end of the path, Newkirk saw a hut. The most unusual hut he had ever seen. This small hut had tall chicken legs. It spun around, sometimes rocking back and forth, sometimes jumping up and down... It did not have doors or windows but the moment the dog came forward and sat down, the hut stopped moving. The chicken legs knelt on the ground and a door formed on the logs. It was darker inside than outside. The dog walked in and disappeared.

Newkirk stood there, reluctant to follow the dog. "This is the balmiest dream ever. What am I supposed to do now?" He frowned. "Maybe it's about time for me to wake up."

The wind began to blow harder. It swirled around Newkirk until his ears could not hear anything else but its laments and cries. The darkness inside the hut was so intense that it seemed that there was nothing else behind. Just when Newkirk was ready to turn and run, he heard a voice. It was a female voice, raspy and old, coming in waves from what sounded like an old phonograph.

"_Blood of England, son of Britons,_" she called. "_You finally have come_."

Newkirk stared at the darkness. "Who am I talking to? Was I expected?"

"_My invitation is embedded in the palm of your hand._" The voice sounded like an echo, as if coming from a deep cavern.

"Oh, this?" Newkirk looked at his palm. "It was a chicken leg after all, then." He smiled. "You spend years buried in that ruddy camp and someday, you're the most popular bloke in the neighborhood. Are you working for Spike?"

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed in the forest. A fence with twelve poles emerged from the ground. On each pole but one, there was a human skull with flaming sockets that illuminated the path. Moaning and crying rose in a chorus at the entrance of the witch.

From the darkened threshold, a small figure came out. By her clothes, Newkirk could tell that it was an old woman. She wore a dark cape and a long skirt. Her head was concealed under a hood but he could see her long gray hair properly braided to one side. As she came out of the hut, Newkirk noticed that her bare feet did not touch the ground. Although he could not see her face, Newkirk felt her watching him intently. He had to remind himself that he was only dreaming, otherwise, he might have run away in a second.

"_Vampires are not welcome in my domain._" The voice did not come from her but from her left, deep into the forest.

"All right, then. What did you bring me here?" Newkirk pretended to be calm in front of so much insanity.

"_You must cease and desist of looking for Koshchei's soul."_

"The what of who?"

"_I never repeat myself!"_ This time, the voice resounded inside his ears.

The pain was bad enough to send Newkirk down to his knees. "Blimey, lady! What's going on here?"

The dark got darker while the wind in the trees broke into excruciating laments. Shadows began to float around the hut. The woman stretched her right arm. It was long, ending in a bony hand. She pointed at one pole on the fence.

"_If you do not do what I say, I will fill the last pole with your skull."_

"Oi, that's not nice, not even for a bad dream. You don't own me."

"_Quite courageous words coming from someone who only has one life to live._" This time the voice shifted to the right side of the woods. _"You almost died once but I spared your life... The cards are on your favor, Briton, but they may change at any minute. You just have to say the right word._"

"The right word? What ruddy right word?"

The light from the flaming skulls waxed brighter, projecting the old lady's shadow against the hut. She remained still while her shadow lifted her arms and opened her hands. Shapes that in other times must have been human crawled out of the forest. Their cries carried unbearable sorrow. Three gigantic horsemen rode slowly towards the witch and the horses bowed their heads to salute her.

The riders looked human, dressed like cossacks, each one in a different color. The first one was dressed in white and riding a white horse. The second one was in red, on a brown horse and holding a handsome sword. The last one was a woman in black on a black horse.

Now, the voice of the witch spoke through the horsemen. They opened their mouths but it would be the same crooked voice coming out of each of them.

"_Behold my servants_," it said through the white one, "_White Dawn_."

"_Red Sun_," it said through the red one.

"..._and I think you've already met Dark Midnight_." The dark one allowed Newkirk to see her eyes.

Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall in place. "She was the one who hexed me!" Newkirk turned to the witch. "You sent her, didn't you? But why?"

"_Asking questions takes years off your life. You look like a brilliant young man. You just have to do what I say. I would lift up the curse, you would be free."_ White Dawn bowed his head.

"Free? It's not my imagination then, that bloody safe box did burn me hand, didn't it?"

Red Sun laughed with a metallic voice. "_I bring you back to normality, and you stop your friends from going to Nuremberg."_

"_One thing for the other, Comrade Newkirk,"_ Dark Midnight stared at him. _"If you do not comply, the curse will only worsen."_

"I burn me hands every time I touch a safe box. What else can you do to me?" Newkirk understood too late how stupid that question was.

"_Stop your friends from going to Nuremberg..." _The voice moved again to Newkirk's ears.

"They won't listen to me, I'm just a corporal, you know?" Newkirk shrugged but he could not hide his doubts. Somehow, he knew that this woman did not care about ranks.

White Dawn turned to him. "_I do not dislike you, Comrade... But I have to prevent you from stealing Koshchei's soul."_

"What are you going to do to me now?"

"_Leave now, the road back is longer._" Red Sun lowered his head.

"But, what are you going to do?"

"_Tonight, at midnight, we will talk again..." _Dark Midnight said. _"Be prepared to bargain..."_

Newkirk could hear the voice fading away, farther and farther each time. The wind stopped and everything went darker. The horsemen melted into the mist, the tormented souls disappeared and the fence began to disintegrate. The witch floated backwards towards the door and the hut stood up on its chicken legs.

"Wait! Can I at least know your name?" he yelled to nowhere in particular.

"_Of all the names I have been called, Baba Yaga is the one you must remember_."

The voice echoed once again and the hooded woman vanished inside the darkened door. Newkirk blinked and the hut was gone. He began to walk, trusting that his sense of orientation would take him back to the Stalag.

The night turned into day again, and he wondered how many guards would be looking for him. Newkirk had hoped for the dogs to bark and show him the way. The road was quiet, only birds chirped as though nothing had happened. After several hours of walking on a straight line, he arrived to the end of the forest. Immediately, Newkirk recognized the place where they had been chopping wood the day before.

"Newkirk!" LeBeau called him. "Where have you been?"

"LeBeau? Did they let you come to look for me too?" Newkirk hugged him. "So good to see you, did you miss me?"

"What? I just need you to take half of the load." LeBeau stared at him. "Why should I miss you? You've been gone for only five minutes."

The news struck Newkirk more unexpectedly than the live wire the day before. "Five minutes! Blimey! It can't be."

"Well, maybe ten, I don't have a watch." LeBeau shrugged. "Where were you?"

"Dreaming I guess," said he rubbing the back of his neck. "The strangest dream ever. So real..."

Schultz was waking up and stared at them as he stretched. "Well, boys. You know the drill, pick up your things and go back. Schnell!"

Newkirk shook his head. It had been a dream. It had to be a dream. However, all the way back, he could not help thinking about the trip and if it would be wise to step out. One thing was for sure, he would keep himself away from electrical wires and safe boxes...

tbc

* * *

_**Baba Yaga, her horsemen: White Dawn, Red Sun and Dark Midnight and Koshchei **are part of Russian and Central Europe folklore. I took very few liberties with the original characters. ;)_


	13. The grief that does not speak

_**13. The grief that doth not speak**_

Newkirk tried to downplay the dream he had experienced in the woods. He was getting angry at himself for being so weak. He kept a quiet conversation in his mind and he was almost convinced that everything was a product of his vivid imagination. However, by the time they crossed the gates of Stalag XIII, his heartbeat accelerated.

Deep inside, Newkirk could feel that something was not right. The woman's last words bothered him. What kind of decision should he make by midnight? Above everything, he feared for his friends and what that witch would do to them to stop that trip to Nuremberg.

"Newkirk," said Hogan, "Mr. Jones wants to talk to you."

The Englishman had barely taken a seat when the colonel approached him. Hogan's expression was tense and expectant. Certainly, he had been avoiding this interview to the last moment. Newkirk felt bad at being the cause of so much trouble. He would take care of Mr. Jones and everybody would breathe easily again.

"Sure, sir." He smiled at the man. "What can I do you for?"

"I just want to ask you some questions if you don't mind."

"Here? Right now?"

Hogan patted him on the back. "It's okay, Newkirk. Just routine questions. You can use my office." He turned to Carter, LeBeau and Olsen at the table. "Let's go, guys. That tunnel walls ain't gonna reinforce by themselves."

Newkirk saw them all go through the trap door with the strange feeling that when they came back, nothing would be the same anymore.

()o()o()

Newkirk went into Hogan's quarters willing to lie blatantly for the sake of the operations. He went to close the window so no one could see Mr. Jones. Schultz was outside and Newkirk felt the urge of talking to him.

"I'll be right back," he told Mr. Jones before rushing for the door.

Schultz had just sat down to enjoy his afternoon snack. Hiking on the woods had opened his appetite and nothing, including his vampire chase, would delay him. Newkirk came running to sit next to him.

"Hey, Schultzie, how're you doing?"

"We just saw each other a few minutes ago. Nothing has changed that much." He took a bite of his sandwich.

"I've got a question for you." Newkirk tried not to look that serious. "You're from around here, aren't you?"

Schultz stared at him as though trying to understand the words. "Are you all right?"

"I mean, you do know the locals, right? Most of them?" He smiled when the sergeant nodded. "What do you know about an old lady living in the forest?"

"An old lady living in _this_ forest?"

"Yeah, I think her name is Baba Yaga-"

Schultz laughed. "Oh, Newkirk. You're a jolly joker indeed. Where did you get that name? Baba Yaga is a tale for children... How do you call it? A folk tale. And she's Russian, no stories about her living in a German forest."

"I see..." Newkirk sat back. This should have been a revelation for him. Surprisingly enough, it was not. "And what does it say? The story, I mean."

"I don't remember very well." Schultz scratched the back of his ear. "Let's see, she's a witch. The most powerful witch in the world. She lives in a hut with chicken legs." He chuckled. "That's the funniest part. Then, it gets ugly. She eats people and does favors for a price."

"What kind of price? Money?"

"She doesn't need money. She prefers things that mean something for you. Sacrifices."

"Sacrifices? Like what?"

"You ask for something you really need and in exchange, you give her something that is precious for you. She admires purity of heart and overall politeness." Schultz looked at him and laughed. "She also have three servants, the horsemen. _White Dawn, Red Sun _and _Dark Midnight._ They're her messengers."

"How about _Koshchei's soul?"_

Schultz's eyes widened. "Koshchei the deathless? In the name of Baba Yaga, what have you been reading?"

"Well? What is it?"

"It's another legend. Koshchei is a powerful sorcerer that can't be killed because his soul is hidden in an egg, inside a duck, inside a hare, inside a box under an oak tree in a remote island."

"Really? Are you sure?" Newkirk frowned. "It can't be right, can it?"

"Newkirk, those are stories for little children. They're not real."

"Like vampires," Newkirk sighed with a shrug. He was about to leave when a shadow rushed in front of his eyes. It crossed the yard and disappeared underground. "Blimey!" He sprung up and ran towards the point where it had happened. He reckoned that the tunnel was right under his feet. "No, no, no!"

Newkirk ran to the barrack and down the ladder. Olsen was emptying a bucket of earth and smiled at him.

"Where's the colonel?" Newkirk gasped.

"Inside that section over there," Olsen pointed at the black opening a few meters in front of them. "Carter, LeBeau and Kinch are in there too. You'd better wait till they come out, there isn't enough room for all of us."

"Blimey!" Newkirk stared at the darkness. Something moved in there. "No, it can't happen!" He turned and went outside.

Hogan tested the steadiness of every pole and beam on the wall. "It looks solid enough," he said to Kinch. "We can start levelling the floor in a couple of days."

"Agree, we'll take the rest of debris out tonight and it'll be ready." Kinch signed for Carter and LeBeau to go out.

As he followed them, something cracked inside the crown beam. Dust began to fall as announcing that something big was about to happen. Hogan noticed it first and pushed Kinch out of the way. He stayed behind.

A single explosion shook the ground of half the Stalag. Some buildings trembled but, as they had been instructed many times before, the prisoners pretended not to have noticed anything unusual. Newkirk was thrown to the ground but got up as fast as he could. Still stunned, he ran to Barrack 2 one more time. The ladder was wrapped in a thick cloud of dust. He heard the men coughing as they came up from the tunnel.

Olsen came out, blinking and gasping. Newkirk waited, but the rest of the group was not on sight.

"What happened?"

"Half of that damn wall collapsed... The boys are still there."

"All of them? Colonel Hogan too?" Newkirk could feel his own heart pounding against his chest.

"And Carter, Kinch and LeBeau... They're all together..."

"Blimey!" Newkirk ran to the trapdoor. "We've got to do something."

"I'll bring people from the other barracks," Olsen said. "We have to start digging."

Newkirk shook his head. First, that weird dream, then this... He took off his jacket and went down the tunnel.

()o()o()

"See anything?" Olsen asked Newkirk.

The Englishman held the lantern high but the rocks and debris were too thick to allow any light to go farther. He shook his head and sat back for a moment. They had been there for almost five hours and there were still no signs of life inside that part of the tunnel. Newkirk closed his eyes for a second and had to lean against the wall.

"Why don't you take a break, Peter?" Olsen touched his arm. "We'll probably be here all night, anyway."

"What time is it?" His voice was tired.

"Almost midnight."

Newkirk stood up. He remembered what the witch had said about coming to visit him at midnight. What important decision did he had to make? It might concern his friends' lives...

"I'll be right back," he walked outside through the emergency exit. He made sure no guards were around and sat down on a fallen trunk.

The woman in black walked out of the woods and came to sit in front of him. There was no trunk and she did not touch the ground. Any other time, Newkirk would have been really amazed.

"Ready to talk, Comrade Newkirk?"

"Is it Dark Midnight or Baba Yaga speaking?"

"Dark Midnight for Baba Yaga," the woman smiled. "She likes to make deals, and she likes you... Your friends don't have much time left. Are you prepared to pay the price?"

"I don't know what I could give instead of them but me own life."

Dark Midnight laughed. "You caught Baba Yaga on a good day, Comrade. She doesn't want your life. Name another price."

Newkirk shook his head. "What else is there to offer?"

"Something that you appreciate, something that you will miss, something important to you."

"I don't know... I'm alive... I like being alive." Newkirk shrugged. "I walk, I can see, I can hear..."

"Give me your hearing. You can't open safe boxes without your hearing."

"Going deaf you mean?"

"You can go blind, or mute if you like."

"Deaf it is." Newkirk closed his eyes as he realized what he had just said.

"That's a good price, Baba Yaga is pleased."

Newkirk stared at her in disbelief. "Is that it? One sense for me friends?"

"It is so," she bowed.

Newkirk took a deep breath. "What guarantees-?"

"Your friends will be free the moment you and I stop talking."

"So, I'll go deaf?"

"Are you afraid of losing your hearing?"

"Not as much as losing me friends."

"Just remember this, if you go to Nuremberg, you might lose something more valuable than your ears... or your life."

"What do you mean by that?" Exasperation began to show in Newkirk's voice.

"Think about it. What is it you fear the most, Comrade Newkirk?" The woman stood up.

"So," Newkirk said with a sigh, "How do we do this?"

"It's done..."

He could not hear the last word. He felt dizzy and had to knelt down for a moment. By the time he looked up, Dark Midnight was gone. He went back to the tunnel not knowing what to expect. Everything was too quiet and dark. He walked towards the lights at the site of the accident. Smiling faces came to greet him. Olsen hugged him and said something. The silence was unbearable. Newkirk was still adjusting to his situation when Carter and LeBeau got up from the floor and ran towards him. They talked at the same time and only Newkirk's common sense kept him from panicking.

Kinch and Hogan were also there, all dusty but evidently happy about being alive. Hogan shook Newkirk's hand and smiled at him.

"Good work, Corporal. That was quite an adventure."

Newkirk smiled. He could not hear Hogan's voice but his lips were easy to read. One of those abilities he had learned from his days at the circus. He had almost forgotten about it. He concentrated, his voice was still there... If he could pretend to hear, no one would know about his little problem. He would keep it in secret along with the witch, the vampire and that sinister creature they called Koshchei.

"Good to see you too, Gov'nor." He turned to Kinch. "All well, Sergeant?"

"All well, Corporal." Kinch nodded and tapped Newkirk on the shoulder.

()o()o()

The celebrations lasted until daybreak. Then, everybody went back to their barracks to wait for roll call. Hogan and his men came out to find Mr. Jones sitting at the table waiting for them. Only then, Newkirk remembered the poor man.

"Colonel Hogan, I need to talk to you right away."

Newkirk did not need the sound to see that he was in trouble with Mr. Jones. Hogan got the same feeling for he turned to him and frowned.

"Didn't you talk with him already?"

"With all the commotion, sir, I forgot he was in your office."

"Mr. Jones. There was an emergency. Not something that happens every day but-"

"Colonel Hogan, accidents happen. I'm not going to hold that against you." Mr. Jones did not smile. "I need to talk with Corporal Newkirk and now is the time."

Hogan turned to Newkirk and shrugged. "Do the best you can. I have to think of an excuse for the last explosion. We don't want Colonel Klink nosing around just now."

()o()o()

Newkirk took a seat at the desk, staring attentively at Mr. Jones. Soon, he found out that looking at the man's lips was a harder task than he had imagined. The man kept his face down as he wrote on his notebook. The questions came out incomplete and Newkirk had to figure out most of the beginnings and the endings.

"... regarding the Dalibor affair?"

"Oh, well... I was literally dying back then, I don't remember much of it," said Newkirk in a casual tone.

Mr. Jones stared at him suspiciously. "Did you aim at..." He lowered his face again to read from his notebook.

"Aim? Well, yeah, I had to, but only to stop him from running away." After that, he stuck to neutral answers like "Maybe... hard to tell... I don't think so..."

Mr. Jones's enigmatic smile did not tell him much. Newkirk was not sure if the answers were actually matching the questions. But in a fight of poker faces, the Englishman won them all.

"... would you..."

Newkirk struggled with the last question. Mr. Jones' lips were out of sight for most of it. So, he had to make a wild guess. "I... don't think so..."

Mr. Jones nodded and put his notebook away. "Very well, corporal. I think that will be all," he said. "I'll be in my quarters now. Have a good day."

Newkirk could breathe at last. He sat down for a moment, staring through the window at the new day coming in. The quietness was uncanny. No more than a few hours had passed since he lost his hearing and he already missed every single noise. He wondered for how much longer he would be able to keep his condition from his friends and how much longer he could go on without losing his mind. Then, there was Dark Midnight's last question... what did he fear the most? Newkirk did not want to answer to that, not yet...

tbc

* * *

_I hope that the site's hiccups are gone now and you can read and review the story without any problem._

_Thank you always ;)  
_


	14. Now I'm cabined, cribbed, confined

_**A little warning: **British cockney and British vampire encounter, some British cursing expected :)_

* * *

_**14. Now I'm cabined, cribbed, confined...**_

Drusilla sat down at the small table they had put in her cell. She smiled at an imaginary chair on her right. "More tea, Herr Kohler?" She pretended to pour tea in an invisible cup. She turned to a real chair in front of her. "Fraulein Lisle, help yourself to some biscuits, s'il-vous plaît."

The lifeless body of Agatha Lisle stared at her with a permanent expression of surprise. The woman had been sent to clean the cell but instead, she found the insatiable vampire. When she wanted to scream, it was too late to ask for help...

Drusilla giggled. "You, Agatha, naughty girl. Herr Kohler is a respectable gentleman... What did you say? Oh, do you want me to continue my fairy tale? Well... Let's see." She shuffled the tarot cards and spread seven on the table. "The _Enchanter of Delusion_ met the _Squire of Eternity_, but their encounter was too brief for the Enchanter to understand what his mission was... Then, he went to the woods where the _Evil Witch of Bones_ put a spell on him... He lost one of his most precious possessions in order to protect the _Ace of Swords,_ and his friends... Now, he struggles to make them understand that he is under a spell... He has lost more than his hearing, the poor boy... and his chances to carry on with his mission are diminishing little by little..."

()o()o()

Newkirk went outside and sat on a bench far from Barrack 2. He needed to lean his back against the wall to prevent someone from surprising him from behind. He was in pain; not physical but mental. He missed the voices of his friends; Carter's cheerful tones and LeBeau's accent... Kinch's serene words and Hogan's sarcastic remarks. He missed Schultz's and Klink's too. All the soundscape at the Stalag was gone. Newkirk could not feel any lower.

"He's getting worse, isn't he?" Hogan said, staring at him from his window. Although he was not aware of the latest developments, he had been watching his man closely enough to see that something was not right.

"He's just had an accident. His heart stopped, just a couple of seconds, but it must have been really traumatic for him. It was for me," Wilson said with a shrug. "I'm still shaking. It was too close."

"Yeah, me too. I had nightmares about that last night. For a moment I thought... well... none of my men has died on me yet. I don't think I'd like that at all."

Wilson sat and lit a cigarette. He took his time to inhale and exhale. He chuckled and shook his head. "How do you manage?"

"Excuse me?"

"You run all these operations with four men. They might crack but you're still the Rock of Ages."

Hogan laughed and sat beside him. "I'd wish. These men are unbelievable. They bend over backwards to get the job done. If they fell, I would fall with them, Wilson."

"Don't be so dramatic, Colonel. I'm almost sure that Newkirk will overcome whatever it's bugging him as unexpectedly as it began." He shrugged. "See? I think we've been taking the problem from the wrong angle. I mean, Newkirk has been confined to the barracks for almost two months now. In the meantime, we've all been hovering around like mother hens, watching over him."

"He was really sick, he needed us to-"

"My point is that we haven't given him the chance to get back on his own feet yet." Wilson put down his cigarette. "Maybe, contrary to what it seems, Newkirk feels more comfortable being the center of attention, not having to do much to get back on his own."

"Are you saying that he made this all up to get our attention?"

"Not deliberately, but after weeks of us looking after him, Newkirk may be a little apprehensive about getting back to his normal routine. The accidents and clumsiness must be all in his head, although he doesn't have real control of it."

"So, we do what? Leave him alone to break his neck on the tunnel ladder or up on the roof?"

"I just think that we need to take his antics as something normal. Let's not give them any more importance than they actually need. Just act naturally, Newkirk will respond in no time."

"In other words, you don't have an idea what's wrong with him." Hogan smiled.

"Not a single clue," Wilson chuckled.

Mr. Jones knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation. He was expressionless as he saluted Hogan and nodded to Wilson.

"Mr. Jones, I don't have time now-"

"Colonel Hogan, I'm just here to inform you that I'm ready to go back to London."

Hogan could not be happier. "I see, did you find everything you were looking for?"

"Actually, yes. The charges against Sergeant Carter will be dismissed without prejudice. The rest, I'm afraid, it's not good, sir."

Hogan did not like his tone. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, sir. It concerns Corporal Newkirk directly. I'm afraid that my report won't be as favorable as you expected. I'm recommending his discharge under Section Two, six-fifteen, three-sixty." He took out his notebook to check his notes. "Corporal Newkirk is unfit for service due to mental illness probably caused by stressful situations after being wounded in combat." He adjusted his glasses to look at Hogan. "Look, Colonel. This is not my first case of shell shock. In fact, I've been doing my own research on it." He turned to Wilson and smiled proudly. "I got my degree on Advanced Psychology."

"So?" Hogan did not like the turn of the conversation.

"I think that Corporal Newkirk is suffering the aftermath of a very unpleasant experience. His symptoms are alarming but nothing new. I've had the opportunity to observe several cases at the mental ward of the University Hospital, most of them, veterans." He shook his head in pity. "I'll write an article on the subject when my service is over. I'm even proposing a name for the disease: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD. Sounds good, doesn't it?"

"Catchy," Wilson smirked and Hogan glared at him. He cleared his throat, trying to sound as professional as Jones. "But, Mr. Jones, are you sure you can diagnose Newkirk just like that?"

"That shall be done in a Hospital with the facilities for it. Certainly, Corporal Newkirk can't stay here, according to testimonies of several prisoners, his condition has been deteriorating very fast. His responses to my questionnaire were vague and evasive, as though he wasn't listening to a word I said. I'd like to take him with me, but I suppose we need to arrange his transfer through the appropriate channels."

Hogan seemed distracted for a while. His brain was working at high speed just to come up with a clever solution. He did not have anything.

"Without further ado, I think I'm going to pack. You may do the arrangements to get me out of here, Colonel. It's been a pleasure, all things considered."

He turned to the door when Hogan sprung up. "Mr. Jones!" He called out of desperation. "You can't leave now."

"Can't I? Why?"

"Well..." Hogan struggled to come up with a reason and suddenly, his eyes glowed. "Because... you haven't seen us in action." He smiled triumphantly as he turned to Wilson. The medic just shook his head and hid his face in one hand.

"Sorry, what?" Mr. Jones could not believe his ears. He tried not to show too much expectation.

"Sure, we're just preparing a new operation and I'd like you to come as an observer."

"Oh, boy... I mean, sir! This is so unexpected. I thought it could be but... I didn't dare to ask." Mr. Jones smiled widely for the first time since his arrival. "When? Where? How?"

"Soon," Hogan kept a frozen smile. "Just go and get ready... We travel light." He managed to remain on his two feet until the door closed behind the man. "Oh, boy." He sank on his chair and pressed his hand on his forehead. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Like what? I think you put the noose around your neck beautifully all by yourself." Wilson offered him a cigarette and lit it for him. "May I come too? This trip promises to be a blast."

"I just kept talking..." Hogan stared at Wilson. "I couldn't let him discharge Newkirk on mental health grounds, that would ruin all his opportunities for a normal life after the war."

"Not objections here, Colonel. That's exactly what would happen." Wilson nodded. "It's going to be all right. Providing nothing funny happens in Nuremberg."

"Got any aspirin? I'm going to put my brain to work extra hours to figure out how to justify the absentees on roll call... and transportation... and Newkirk... Oh,God... What am I going to do with Newkirk?"

"If you don't take him with you, Mr. Jones is going to believe that you don't trust him anymore. Besides, it might be a great opportunity to start treating him normal again. "

"I'll find the way to make Newkirk understand how important this operation is, right?" Hogan nodded. "And Klink? He's been on his toes since the incident. He almost called Hitler about the blast in the tunnel. It was good that I stopped him on time." Hogan grinned.

"What did you tell him?"

"Well, that with the changes in the weather, we should expect little earthquakes here and there." He caught Wilson's skeptical stare and shrugged. "He bought it. Although I don't know what I'm gonna do with him and this trip to Nuremberg."

"Why don't you invite him too? I mean, since you've been so generous so far." Wilson expected Hogan to get mad at him, but instead, the colonel grinned.

"I might, why not? Wilson, you're a genius!"

()o()o()

"Why are you so quiet?" Carter asked Newkirk but did not get any answer. He frowned. "Newkirk?"

Newkirk stared at his cards and looked up at Carter. The sergeant kept his hand over his mouth, making it impossible to read his lips. "Blimey, Carter, it's your turn." He said.

"What's with you? You look distracted."

"Nothing, I'm trying to concentrate here." Newkirk felt more uncomfortable by the minute. Along with his hearing he had also lost his sense of humor. He just wanted to finish the game and run away. "Gin!"

"What? I thought we were playing poker." Carter grabbed his friend's arm. "What's wrong, Newkirk? You can trust me, you know that."

_Sure. Let's talk about vampires and witches. That'll make me feel better, knowing that me friends think I'm ready for the loony bin._ Newkirk stood up and put the cards on the table. "I need to be alone for a while, all right?"

Carter watched him walk away. This was not good. He would stay closer just in case Newkirk needed a shoulder to lean on.

()o()o()

"Our man in Nuremberg says that they'll have everything ready for the day after tomorrow. They'll provide the accommodations at the Schloss von Krauser in the outskirts of Nuremberg. His codename is Beowulf."

"Really? I didn't know that our man in Nuremberg was so well connected?" Hogan smiled when Kinch read the message. "At least, something is working all right. Now we need transportation, credentials and a formal invitation for Klink."

"Letterhead paper and everything?" Kinch asked.

"From the _Department of Public Relations of Tactics and Logistics, _site at Nuremberg," Hogan said. "Get Newkirk to make up some signatures from Generals and Brigadiers and make it official."

"Yeah, maybe that'll cheer him up."

Hogan did not like the sound of that. But it painted their situation as it was. "We still have to deal with Mr. Jones, the transportation and a good excuse for me skipping roll calls. Weird as it sounds, Newkirk's being spared for a week due to the accident made things easier on that matter."

Kinch took another incoming message. "Colonel, the submarine is still waiting for a change in the weather."

"Oh, yeah, the submarine." Hogan read the piece of paper and rubbed his neck. "What do they want from us, a prayer? If the weather doesn't want to cooperate, we can't make it, can we?" He felt bad for getting angry. Bad luck kept coming their way to stay. He sighed. "Contact the submarine and beg them to wait till the last minute."

()o()o()

Hogan caught Newkirk wandering in the tunnels. He called him several times before the corporal turned around.

"Everything okay, Newkirk?"

"As always," Newkirk whispered.

"We're on the logistics part, the trip must be ready in a couple of days." Hogan pretended not to notice the corporal's shallow breathing and paleness. "Are you prepared?"

Newkirk sighed. "Does it have to be me, sir? I'd rather stay-"

"Are you bailing out?"

"Calling sick more likely. I don't feel well at all," Newkirk said.

Hogan's first impulse was to comply. He had seen him at the worst state of his illness and he still feared a relapse. But then, he remembered Wilson's words. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Newkirk, this operation requires opening a vault and you're the expert. No bailing out this time." He turned, hoping he was doing the right thing. At least, if something went wrong, he would be there for Newkirk. There was nothing to worry about.

()o()o()

Newkirk avoided the radio room and the storeroom. He turned and found a little corner in the section that they were just opening. He sat on the ground and lit a cigarette. There was always a relaxing effect in that nasty habit. He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he heard the click of another lighter. He opened his eyes again.

"Do you know that these things might kill you?" Spike was in front of him, dressed like a German Corporal. He smirked at him and looked around. "Nice work you've got here. Solid. Better than the bat caves I've lived in..." He saw Newkirk frown and he chuckled. "Kidding! I always travel first class." He sat next to Newkirk. "Why are you so quiet? Did the witch eat your tongue?" Spike laughed. "Bloody hell, she did, didn't she?"

Newkirk glared. "No, my ears." He frowned. "How come I can hear you?"

"These tricks only work on living creatures... Long story short. " He sighed. "I'm not a living creature."

Newkirk stared at him warily.

"All right, some spells work on the world of the living only. You can't hear anyone who's alive, not even their voices or any noise they make. I don't breathe, which makes everything easier for you." He knocked on the wall. "Heard that, right? Your undead friend truly." He smiled. "What did she give you in exchange?"

Newkirk thought about it for a moment. "It was me ears or me friends. She made it very clear that any way I won't be able to get the relic, egg or whatever you want to call it."

"Poor creature. No wonder you're so broody." Spike chuckled. "You remind me of a friend... Always brooding, not fun at all." Spike inhaled the smoke and grinned to see Newkirk staring at him. "You're dying to ask me some questions, aren't you? Ask away."

"That uniform, where did you-?" Newkirk did not want to know the answer all of a sudden.

"The wanker got stuck in my teeth... So to speak." He got up and stretched.

"Why are you after me?"

"I took your name out of a hat." The vampire snorted. "Sort of. So, how do you face adversity?"

"What question is that?" Newkirk felt suddenly annoyed.

"True." Spike nodded. "I mean, look at you, deaf, threatened by forces of evil and still looking fresh as a daisy."

"Fresh as a-?" He sprung up. "What the bloody hell are you talking about? I'm hanging on a thread! Who's given you and those other freaks the ruddy right to come and torture me?"

"Hey, messenger here," Spike stepped back. "We need a resilient soul to take on the task of tracking and finding a valuable gem. There were several who tried but they were not strong enough. You should feel proud you were chosen among so many candidates."

"You said _We?_ Who?" Newkirk narrowed his eyes. "Who's behind you, Spike?"

"Ah- no one," Spike said. "I'm a lone wolf, or vampire for all that matter. I learned about that little bugger in a... all right," he shrugged, "I'm working for an eccentric collector. I'm here to recruit you and that's it."

Newkirk felt his legs weakening and had to sit down again. "What makes you think that I'm going to help you so willingly?"

"Because," said Spike, crouching in front of him. He smiled all the time. "You've seen what I'm capable of. Now, if you're half as smart as I think you are, you must be looking for the way to keep me away from your beloved friends. Am I wrong, Peter?"

Newkirk stared at him, trying to read the truth in the vampire's eyes. Nothing harder. He gave up. "Before I agree to anything, I need to know something."

"Now what?" he sighed.

"What is it we're looking for? I know that the witch doesn't want it to be found but the Allies and you are after the same thing, aren't you?"

Spike tilted his head and grinned. "Can't tell you."

"But, what is it? Animal, vegetable or mineral? Is it alive or an inanimate object? A weapon or a treasure. Is it money?"

"Stop," laughed the vampire. "What's this, _Twenty questions?_ You talk too much. All of the above, Peter. All the answers are yes."

"Blimey! I'm fed up with riddles. If I'm the only one who can retrieve that rubbish, I should have a say on all of this, shouldn't I?"

"Well, I suppose, but I'm a pawn in this game, just like you. The difference is that if you don't do what I say, you're gonna be really sorry for the rest of your life."

Newkirk clenched his teeth. "If I go with you that witch is gonna kill me friends. If I don't go, you will kill them. Anyway, I lose!" He stepped forward to meet Spike face to face. "Didn't it occur to you that you might ask me first?"

"Well," Spike pushed him gently to make distance between them. He chuckled and shrugged. "Would you like to help me?"

Newkirk glared at him. "Damn it, Spike! You've just told me that me friends' lives are in your bloody hands if I don't help you! It's a bit late to ask, don't you think?"

"I like your attitude. You would make a jolly awful vampire, you know that?" He shook his head. "When are we leaving?"

"We?

"Yeah, you and I."

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun indeed." Newkirk shook his head. "There are still several things that we need."

"Such as?"

"Me boss, Colonel Hogan. He's been told about a ruddy egg in Nuremberg. He getting ready for the trip."

"The more, the merrier," Spike said with a shrug. "What else?"

"Transportation. Klink's staff car is not big enough to hide three people."

"That'll be fun to watch, though," Spike nodded.

Newkirk rolled his eyes. Arguing with Spike would not get him anywhere. "Got to go," Newkirk took a deep breath and headed for the exit. "Maybe I shouldn't say this, but it was actually nice to hear you, Spike."

Spike followed him with his eyes and nodded. That young mortal would serve him well.

tbc

* * *

_Thank you all for your reviews!_


	15. The obscure bird

**_15. The obscure bird_**

The night could not be more welcome for Newkirk. With everybody in bed, he could at last get some rest. Watching everybody all the time was terribly exhausting. He was not sure for how long he would be able to keep up the lie. He was not even sure if he should.

_Decisions, decisions..._ His head hurt. He closed his eyes. Two seconds later, a loud bang woke him up. _Someone just slammed a bloody door,_ he thought. He sat up and blinked. A tall figure had entered the barrack. Although it was dark, Newkirk could make out some of its traits. It was a man, with long hair and extremely thin. His eyes were red, like small flames staring at him. The rest of his face was concealed by some kerchief. His clothes were old and ragged and his bare feet sometimes looked like claws.

Like the witch, he did not touch the floor. He moved slowly towards him and lifted his head to meet him eye to eye. Newkirk looked around but no one else was awake. He saw the bony fingers coming from the darkness of the creature's clothes to grab him by his nightshirt. He felt how it pushed him down on his back and held him down. The creature lifted his other hand and scratched Newkirk's chest.

"_If you go to Nuremberg, someone will die..." _

()o()o()

Hogan formed with his men as any other morning. He turned to do his own mental roll call on them. Carter stretched and LeBeau yawned. It was a cold morning although the sun was already coming out. Kinch was right behind him and made him notice the motorcycle coming through the gates. Hogan shrugged and nodded.

"Just in time," Kinch said.

"Just in time." Hogan nodded. "Carter, you and Newkirk will volunteer to clean the office. We need an extra letter for our kommandant."

"Sure, no problem."

They were accounted for and went back to the barracks. As any other morning, they had their chores to do, for the Stalag and for the Allies.

Carter shook Newkirk's shoulder. After risking his life to save the kommandant, the Englishman had been rewarded with one week of privileges and no roll calls. One extra hour of sleep in the mornings was every prisoner's dream.

"Hey, Newkirk. The extra hour is gone," LeBeau said.

Newkirk did not want to open his eyes. His mind was still recreating the horrors of the night before. It took him a couple of minutes to realize that it had had to be a dream, although vivid and painful: he remembered his screams, the door banging and the creature's growls. Sounds that he could not hear in real time.

"Maybe he needs more time," Carter said. "He was restless last night."

"I heard him," LeBeau shook his head. "But Wilson said that we should treat him normally."

Newkirk opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling and turned his head to see Carter talking to LeBeau. He still was too sleepy to concentrate on reading lips. He just pretended to yawn and not to pay much attention to anything yet. He checked his nightshirt and it was intact. At least, that part of his nightmare was over.

He jumped down from his bunk and a sharp pain stabbed him in the ribs. He leaned forward and Carter came to help him. Newkirk could not hear him but the conventional question would be if he was okay. Surely, he was not, but there was no point in telling the truth.

"I'm fine."

No one said anything else. After almost a week of seeing Newkirk acting so strangely, there was not much to be surprised about.

Newkirk did his best to get dressed and come out of the barrack before anyone else noticed how hurt he was. He strolled for a while, giving the pain on his chest and back time to subside. He was also trying to process that the events of the night before had not been just a bad dream.

He sat down on his usual bench and leaned his back against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment but the images of his attacker were still fresh on his mind. When he opened his eyes again, Schultz was right in front of him. His lips were moving.

"Oh, hello, Schultz," Newkirk said and yawned. "Didn't sleep too well last night."

The sergeant frowned and sat down with him. "Newkirk, what's wrong?" he spoke softly. "I called you several times and you didn't respond. Are you sick or something?"

"I ain't turning into a vampire if that's what you mean." Newkirk tried to smile. He stretched and his ribs hurt. Schultz was too close to miss that.

"No, this is what I mean. Do you need a doctor? That electric shock might have affected you more than you think."

Newkirk shook his head and rubbed his temple. "Schultz, please. I'm fine, really." His energy was ebbing away fast and all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Come on, Newkirk. Tell old Schultz what's going on," he smiled.

"Nothing... I can't..." Newkirk sighed and closed his eyes. "I just can't..." He felt Schultz grabbing his arm and saying something, but it was late to make sense of the words he caught. He saw the sergeant frown with concern.

"Gott, Englander, you can't hear me, can you?" He was alarmed. Newkirk tried to get up and walk away but he stopped him. "I could drag you to the kommandant's office right away, get you some medical attention."

"Schultz, please-" Newkirk begged. "Doctors can't help."

"How long have you-? How do you manage to-?"

"I can read your lips..." he shrugged in resignation. "It happened yesterday... Can't tell you how, it's so incredible that I don't even believe it meself."

Schultz kept quiet for a moment, while thinking about the situation. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he stared at Newkirk. "The witch! Y-You asked me about Baba Yaga... Oh, mein Gott! Is she here? Did you meet her?"

"Shhh! Are you screaming? Keep it down!" Newkirk whispered. "Witches don't exist."

"You can say that but you keep stumbling on things more often than Carter." Schultz kept staring at him. "It began the other day in Hammelburg, right? That woman really hexed you."

"Yes, she did."

"And the vampire... Have you seen the vampire?"

"Here and there." Newkirk turned to make sure no one else was listening. Then, he turned to Schultz. "All right, you've got me talking. Now, you're going to learn the whole story."

()o()o()

"_As I was going up the stairs... I met a man who wasn't there... He wasn't there again today... Oh! How I wish he'd go away!"_

"Dru?"

"_As I was going up the stairs..."_

"Dru!"

"_Who's there?"_

"Me, Spike."

"_Oh..." _She sounded disappointed.

"Don't be so excited." Spike rolled his eyes. Sometimes, he had his doubts about Drusilla's love. "Are you all right?"

"_Darker forces are blocking us. They're trying to stop our thief from doing his job... He is in real danger... He hesitates..."_

"I know, I've seen the horsemen around the camp."

"_Oh, poor thing, they're going to kill him..."_

"Not yet, only if he insists on doing the job... They're trying to scare him..."

"_By torture? And torment? Is he bleeding yet?"_

Spike tossed away the butt of his cigarette and lit another one. "Yeah, pretty much," he chuckled. "I hope that doesn't scare him away, though. Time is not on our side."

"_It's up to you, William. You must give them a push..."_

"A push? How?" Spike frowned. After a few minutes of silence, he saw one card of the tarot coming through the window. "What's this?"

"_A card of presentation... give it to the kommandant of the Stalag exactly at seven thirty tonight..."_

"And that will be it?... Dru?... Luv..."

"_The time has come, the Walrus said, to talk of many things; of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax; of cabbages and kings, and why the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings..."*_

()o()o()

Newkirk felt lighter after talking to Schultz. He told him the essential, without being too specific about what all these creatures wanted from him. The German sergeant did not need to know that Newkirk was in the middle of some kind of supernatural conspiracy to tip the balance in favor of the highest bidder. Even so, sharing his secret with someone who was not interested in getting a piece of the action was liberating.

Now, he could concentrate on performing his services in the regular team. The task of the day was getting into Klink's office and leaving the invitation to Nuremberg. Carter pretended to dust Klink's books and Newkirk swept the floor while moving into the office. Once inside, Carter took the fake invitation and put it on top of the incoming mail. He turned and saw Newkirk contemplating the safe box.

"What is it?" Carter asked.

Newkirk was mesmerized. This was his first time in that office since the night of the party. In daylight, the place did not seem so scary and threatening. He walked to the box and stared at it.

"Newkirk, come on, let's go," Carter pulled at his sleeve.

"Give me a second." Newkirk stretched out his hand, moving slowly towards the box. He put his fingertips on it and waited.

"See? It's all right now," Carter smiled. Suddenly, Newkirk jerked his hand away with a moan. Carter grabbed his hand. "You burned your fingers."

"It's still happening." Newkirk shook his head. "I don't think I should go with the colonel... I'm completely useless."

"Newkirk, you'll do fine," Carter grabbed Newkirk's arm. "Come on, let's talk outside."

They came out and made a small sign to Hogan, who responded with a nod.

"Now, tell me, what's going on?" Carter asked Newkirk.

"Nothing. Really, everything's going all right." He kept his eyes on Carter, trying not to miss any word.

"I don't believe you. There's something very wrong with you." He stopped and turned to Newkirk. "I think that after all we went through in our last mission, I deserve a little more trust, don't you think?"

"Carter, there's nothing that you or anyone else can do to help me. It sounds weird, I know, but this, I must do it alone."

His speech would have been more effective if Schultz had not showed up at that moment. "Newkirk, look," he said touching him on the shoulder to show him something. "It's a crucifix. My mother gave it to me when I was enlisted. It was my grandmother's." He smiled and put it in the Englishman's hand. "I don't know if you are a believer, but this will protect you."

"Oh, Schultz, I can't-"

"Not a word. You'll give it back to me when this is all over, all right?"

Carter stared at them and narrowed his eyes. "You told Schultz," he said once the German sergeant was gone. "You trust him but not me? I thought we were friends!" He turned his back on Newkirk and went away.

Newkirk stayed in the middle of the yard all confused and discouraged. He hoped for everything to come to an end as soon as possible. He wished to go back to normal and put this ordeal behind him.

()o()o()

"The delivery was made, and now all we have to do is to wait for results." Hogan sat at the table with a cup of coffee.

"How long? When are we leaving, anyway?" Newkirk was in his bunk, feeling miserable. Reading lips was not as much fun as he remembered from his younger years. He asked questions but missed most of the answers.

"That depends on how long it takes Klink to make arrangements for Grubber to take charge, packing and other small details." Hogan sighed. "Maybe a couple of days."

"With all the stuff that Klink carries in his bags, he'll probably take a whole week." LeBeau chuckled.

Newkirk nodded to the laughs. He could not wait to get done with that mission. His only fear was how to keep Hogan away from the witch and the vampire. He sighed. As though the Nazis weren't dangerous enough...

()o()o()

The night had barely fallen when a motorcycle crossed the gates towards the main building. Shortly after that, Schultz came to the barrack to tell Hogan that the kommandant wanted to see him and Newkirk immediately.

"Me too?" Newkirk asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I asked him the same question." Schultz shrugged. "Some hot shot from Berlin came in and... I don't know."

"It's okay. Everybody, stand by." Hogan turned to Schultz and grinned. "We're playing poker."

Newkirk put on his coat and followed Hogan and Schultz. They crossed the yard faster than usual and entered the office. Klink was there, smiling and laughing, in casual conversation with his visitor. He looked happier than usual; maybe even a little drunk, Hogan thought, surprised.

"Ah, Colonel Hogan, allow me to introduce you to one of my disciples at the Academy. Hauptmann Guillaume Nagel, Luftwaffe."

The young officer turned around and smiled widely at Hogan. "We finally meet, Colonel Hogan," he said.

Newkirk's curiosity turned into horror when the lieutenant looked at him. He could not help himself. He stepped back and said the name. "Spike!"

tbc

* * *

***_The walrus and the carpenter,_**_ by Lewis Carroll _

_The show never said anything about the religious beliefs of the characters. I just needed someone carrying a crucifix. You know, what's a vampire story without a crucifix? :)_

_Thank you for the reviews, keep on reading, this is far from be over ;)  
_


	16. Confusion hath made his masterpiece

_**16. Confusion now hath made his masterpiece!**_

"Spike!" said Newkirk stepping back. The vampire was right in front of him, saluting everyone as though they had known one another for ages.

Spike did not lose his composure. He just tilted his head and smiled. "Why yes, that's my last name in English. You must be Corporal Newkirk. Will was telling me about what you did. Very courageous."

"Will?" Hogan raised one eyebrow. He also watched Newkirk's attitude but did not say anything about that. He had a bad feeling about this man. Although he was wearing an authentic Luftwaffe uniform, he did not seem too concerned about the salute or speaking German whatsoever. In fact, his British accent was impeccable. He turned to Klink and kept a formal attitude. "You wanted to see us, sir?"

"Certainly. You must know that I've been invited as the guest speaker to the Annual Convention of the Department of Public Relations on Tactics and Logistics in Nuremberg," Klink said excitedly. "Lieutenant Nagel here, came to make sure that I'll be there. Of course, he knows that I'm a very busy man and it's almost impossible for me to leave the camp not even for a couple of days-"

"So, I reminded him that his presence is utterly important to motivate other prison camp personnel." Spike grinned. "I also suggested that he must take the senior officer among prisoners to witness how our officers are honored." He turned to Newkirk. "The corporal should come too, as a sign of the respect and affection that our prisoners should hold for their kommandant."

"And guess what?" Klink said with a smile. "I accepted, and you and Corporal Newkirk are coming with us."

Hogan turned to Newkirk with a bewildered look. He was supposed to be the one to talk Klink into leaving for the weekend. He and Newkirk would have hidden in the car along with Mr. Jones... Certainly, the situation was not as he had pictured it.

"Well?" Klink came closer. "You're coming with me, aren't you, Colonel Hogan?"

Hogan stared at him with inquisitive eyes. The kommandant seemed in a strange state of euphoria. He turned to the bar just to check if any of the bottles was empty. They were intact. "Since you put it that way," said Hogan with a sigh. "Newkirk, tell the others that-"

"Sir... I don't think you should get in that car with _him._-" Newkirk whispered as low as he could, but somehow he knew that the vampire was listening to every word he said.

"Of course he's coming," Spike clapped Newkirk's shoulder. "And you too, Corporal Newkirk."

"Sure, I still can cancel me appointments," he said with a sigh. This way he would be able to protect Hogan or at least, to get between him and whatever was waiting at Nuremberg.

"It's a deal, then. Please go and get ready." Klink headed for the door. "We're leaving in one hour."

"One hour?" Hogan frowned. "Tonight?"

Klink did not hear the question for he was already gone to start packing. Spike turned to Hogan and Newkirk with a more serious expression. "Sir," he saluted Hogan. "I'm from Special Forces. London sent me."

"What?" Hogan stared at him in disbelief. "Allies?"

"Newkirk didn't tell you about me? I've been trying to make contact since a few days ago. I was in a hurry and I'm afraid, I sort of scared him and Sergeant Carter."

"That's the man you met in Hammelburg?" Hogan asked Newkirk.

"Well, yes, sir. That's him." Newkirk half smiled at the vampire's panache. "His code name is Spike, I believe."

"And yours is Phantom," Spike shrugged. "I prepared this little charade to take you two to Nuremberg."

"But Klink says you were his disciple at the Academy? How did you-" Hogan was still on his guard.

"Mental suggestion. I was trained to manipulate people's minds."

"And he's very good at it, I must add," Newkirk nodded.

"Really? How do we know you're not manipulating us?" Hogan crossed his arms with the feeling that someone was pulling his leg.

"You wouldn't know," Spike grinned.

Hogan shook his head. "I wasn't notified. That's not the protocol."

"You care about protocols now, Hogan?" Spike lost his formal attitude. "Listen, you wanted to go to Nuremberg, I got you Nuremberg on a silver plate. What do you have to lose, anyway?"

Hogan looked at this young man, who was staring down at him as though he were his superior. He turned to Newkirk. "What's your role in all of this?"

Newkirk shook his head. "Honestly, sir. I've got no idea. I know I have to go, and with all due respect. I'll go, with or without you." Of course, he would choose the second option if he could.

"This is highly irregular, but I won't let you go alone. If you need to be in Nuremberg, we'll be there together." He took a purposeful breath and faced Spike. "All right, let's take advantage of the situation. But if you're double crossing us, you'll be very sorry."

Spike smirked and shrugged. "Colonel, I rarely am." He walked outside.

"Let's get packing, then," Hogan told Newkirk. "We'll arm ourselves just in case we need to make a run for the border."

"Yes, sir." Newkirk took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

()o()o()

"Just get in there, you'll be all right," Kinch said, trying to keep his voice down. Mr. Jones was standing in front of the trunk of the staff car with his bag of clothes hugged against his chest.

"It looks dark, and stuffy... I might suffocate."

"You won't, I've travelled in there many times before. It's completely safe," LeBeau reassured him.

"Please, Mr. Jones. If you don't get in there, you'll have to stay with us." Carter got the bag from him and put it inside the trunk. "I promise you, everything will be all right. It's only a two hour drive."

"All right," said he. "This is going to be in my report, you know?"

"I'll bet it will," Kinch turned around to make sure they were not attracting attention from the guards. He breathed when LeBeau could finally close the trunk lid. He went to Hogan.

The colonel was coming from the barracks with a small bag. In his head, ideas about secret weapons, inspectors, special agents and other logistics piled up mercilessly. "Any news on the submarine?"

"Yes, sir. They're still waiting for a change in the weather," said Kinch.

"Let's hope it happens soon. At least, that's one thing I don't have any control of." Hogan gathered his team. "All right, boys, this is just another routine operation. Newkirk and I will come back in a couple of days. You go to the barracks and prepare the contingent plan just in case. Kinch, contact Beowulf and tell him that we're on our way."

Carter stayed behind with Newkirk and Hogan. Klink was coming out of his house. Spike followed him, laughing at every stupid joke.

"Does Klink look weird to you too?" Carter frowned.

"I'd say he's drunk... or drugged." Hogan stared at Spike. That man had a secret and for some reason, Newkirk seemed to be sharing it with him.

"It's all right, as long as we get to Nuremberg." Newkirk shrugged.

"Who's there? Your girlfriend?" Carter chuckled.

Hogan got closer to Carter. "Kinch and you are in charge. If you don't hear from us in the next forty-eight hours, you'll have to assume that something went wrong. He knows what to do from there." Hogan hated those speeches as much as his men did. However, he needed to know that they would be prepared for the worst case scenario and act accordingly. Above all, he needed to believe that, no matter what, they would be all right.

Carter saluted. "Yes, sir. Everything is under control here." He turned to Newkirk. "Hey, listen, I'm sorry I was crossed. I understand. You don't have to tell me-"

"Look, Carter... I did try but... well... I'll tell you everything when we come back, all right?" He punched him on the arm. "Just wish us good luck."

"Good luck," Carter said obligingly.

Schultz came with three heavy suitcases. Carter put them on the roof of the car and Newkirk got the cord to tie them up. The knots loosened unexpectedly and the bags fell down, missing the corporal by inches.

Hogan pulled him back and out of the way. "Are you okay?"

"As expected, thank you sir." Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Not a break from back luck."

Schultz shook his head but did not say anything. Carter grabbed Newkirk's arm.

"Good luck; and I really mean it this time," he smiled.

()o()o()

Hogan and Newkirk took the back seat. Spike sat in the middle and insisted on keeping the curtains closed all the time. The colonel did not like this man at all. But he seemed strangely close to Newkirk. Hogan could not wait to be alone with his man and hear all about it. Schultz did not seem too keen either. He stared at Spike with fear and wariness. He too seemed to be sharing a secret with Newkirk and Hogan for once felt like the third wheel in the group.

Klink did not stop talking about his years in the Academy and Spike seemed to have been a good part of them. Newkirk just glared at vampire once in a while and then, he pretended to sleep. In his head, he was still figuring out where to go from wherever they were going... what to look for and where to find it in that big city.

He had to think about Hogan and Schultz... and Klink too. If he allowed the witch to get too close, they might get hurt.

()o()o()

The address they had from the underground was a beautiful manor in the countryside, surrounded by woods and gardens. The closest neighbor was at least 1 kilometer away. Hogan wished they were on holiday. The place was set against amazing landscapes and the atmosphere was quiet and relaxing.

Newkirk was so nervous that he could barely enjoy all the delights. Spike did no leave him alone and Hogan stared at them suspiciously. Schultz was more concerned about Newkirk than about Klink, and Mr. Jones was still in the trunk.

"Blimey!" Newkirk said, while waiting anxiously for Schultz to get Klink away from the car. He and Hogan turned immediately to open the trunk lid. "Are you all right, Gov'nor?"

"Here, let me help you out," Hogan said, offering his hand.

Mr. Jones was still young and flexible, but after two hours squeezed inside a trunk, he was less than happy. He flattened his suit and put on his glasses. "So, this is the place?"

Hogan looked around and sighed. "Apparently, yes. Now, Mr. Jones, you'll introduce yourself to Colonel Klink as a staff member. Don't give many details and stay away from him." He turned to Newkirk. "Who is Schultz working for now?" he asked, staring at the sergeant and Klink.

"Colonel, don't pay much attention to him, I'll take care of everything." Newkirk tried to sound in control.

"How about that man, Spike? I don't trust him."

"Me neither, but I'll take-"

"-care of everything. You said that already." Hogan looked at him seriously. "I don't feel like I should trust you too much either, Newkirk. I'd like to know why."

"Don't be sorry about that, sir. Believe me, I'll find the way to explain everything when all this is over." He sighed.

"It'll have to be sooner than that, corporal," said Hogan in a serious tone, "and don't worry, I'll find the way." He looked around. "Now, do you see our contact anywhere?"

"Maybe that little lady knows something," Mr. Jones said.

Hogan turned as a white haired woman walked towards them. She looked in her early seventies, and was dressed in an elegant black dress and a fur coat. She smiled at them. "Papa Bear, I suppose. I'm Beowulf."

"You are our man in Nuremberg?" Newkirk smiled.

Hogan was perplexed. "I must confess we were expecting someone taller."

"I suppose I'm a big surprise." She turned to Newkirk. "Are you the thief?"

Hogan laughed. Newkirk looked down at the lady and smiled gently. "Now I'm a corporal."

"I know we haven't met before but, you look so familiar," she told him. Then, she smiled at Hogan. "I haven't give you my name, have I? I'm Countess Elizabeth von Krauser."

"Colonel Robert Hogan, and this is Corporal Newkirk." Hogan bowed. "That one with the monocle over there, is Colonel Klink and the gentle bear is Sergeant Schultz." He called Mr. Jones. "This is the third man I talked to you about. Mr. Jones, Countess von Krauser."

"Our man in Nuremberg," Newkirk added.

"We need a side job for him," said Hogan.

"Certainly, you'll be my lawyer, Herr Schmidt" she said. "You live in the castle and your office is in the east wing."

"Oh, my, this is really exciting." Mr. Jones could not stop smiling.

"Colonel? Who's that young officer with the kommandant?" Countess Elizabeth asked warily.

"Hard to tell." Hogan grimaced. "He says he's on our side, but he could also be a double agent for all I know."

"I'll keep that in mind." The lady nodded.

The introductions took several minutes. Colonel Klink was still in an euphoric mood and approved of everything he saw. As they were entering the house, Hogan noticed that Spike had remained behind, not moving to cross the threshold.

"Aren't you coming too?" he asked him.

"I haven't been invited." Spike shrugged.

"Colonel Hogan, he won't come in without an invitation," explained Newkirk.

Schultz turned to him with frightened eyes. If he had suspected Spike, now it was official. "He's a vampire, isn't he?" he whispered to Newkirk.

"Well, yeah," he sighed. "But don't tell anyone yet."

Hogan frowned at the sudden politeness, but he had to understand that European rules vary from one place to another. He told the countess and she, after a wondering look, invited Spike inside.

"My butler will show you to your rooms," the countess said. "Dinner is in an hour."

Hogan tossed his bag in his room and went down the hallway to see Newkirk. This time, he would shake some sense out of his corporal. He knocked on his door several times but there was no answer.

"Newkirk?"

"Maybe he can't hear you," Schultz said resignedly.

Hogan turned to see the sergeant coming from Klink's room. The colonel had known this man long enough to see that there was some heavy secret on his shoulders. No one better than Hogan to relieve him from it.

"Schultz, we need to talk."

()o()o()

Newkirk was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. The bed was soft, the sheets were clean and he had a private bathroom with running water. He could not remember so much luxury in his life. Under other circumstances, he would have enjoyed every single minute of it.

The door opened with a bang and a raging Hogan came in. "Peter Newkirk! What's all that about you being deaf?"

Newkirk sat up on the bed and turned to Schultz, who was right behind Hogan.

"Don't look at him, look at me!" Hogan stepped in front. "Speak up!"

"Well... I... it's a long story, sir," he stammered.

"A witch cast a spell so you can't open safe boxes?" Hogan crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's not that long if you summarize it, innit?" Newkirk tried to smile.

Hogan raised an eyebrow. He shook his head in disbelief. "I've been more than patient with you. I've been giving you time to heal and figure things out. I know that getting shot is rather traumatic. It's hard to get back on the saddle..." his voice trembled with anger. "But this is ridiculous!"

"What? Colonel, you can't believe that I'm making this up! I can't hear a bloody thing! Really!" Newkirk could feel that he was yelling at his colonel. He tried to calm down. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that I've been very difficult after the shooting... That was very unexpected and really shook the ground under me feet. But the good news is that I'm doing much better on that matter."

"So?" Hogan began to calm down himself. "What's this tale about witches and vampires?"

"It's not a tale," Newkirk sighed. "I saw her, she's mean. I'm not supposed to open that ruddy box, wherever it might be."

"Why?"

"Because-"

"Because Koshchei's soul is in it and it's very dangerous," Schultz intervened. He had been quietly standing next to the door. He straightened up when Hogan turned to see him. "Colonel Hogan, please, listen to him. This is serious."

Hogan took a deep breath before looking at Newkirk one more time. "Have you tried not being... deaf?"

Newkirk chuckled tiredly. "Oh, sir, if only it were that easy."

Hogan nodded. "So, that Spike is a vampire? How do you know? Only because he told you so?"

"Well, yeah, and because he's the one behind the murders and disappearances in Hammelburg," he said. "And because I can hear him... The spell doesn't work with dead people."

"Oh, come on, Newkirk. This is beyond-"

Newkirk stood up as fast as his sore body allowed him. "You want solid proof? How about this?" He lifted up his shirt and showed him the bruises and lacerations in his chest. He turned around. "I can't see them, but I know they go all the way around to me back, right?"

Hogan was enraged. "But when did it happen? Who did this?"

"Not _who, what... It_ came to me bed last night. We wrestled in my dreams... I thought it was all in me head but this morning, I woke up with this." He sat down on the bed. He saw Schultz by the door, still in shock. Hogan was no less confused. "Sir, I might be going barmy here, and doing this rubbish to meself, but then, how do you explain Klink and all the other coincidences?... We just got to Nuremberg without any problem... more or less."

"And this Spike, who is he?" Hogan's head spun with so much unbelievable information. "Can we trust him?"

"Not at all. He has his own agenda." Newkirk shrugged. "On the bright side, I think he needs me alive."

Hogan began to pace around. He always thought better when pacing around. Schultz smiled a little. Having the colonel taking control of the situation made him feel so much better.

"Let's see... We have a witch, a vampire, a magic weapon... Klink is acting like he had one Happy Hour too many and Beowulf, our man in Nuremberg, is a little old lady..." He shook his head. "You've been tortured in your dreams, and I'm going crazy with a good reason." He rubbed his temple with two fingers.

"That's an interesting way to put it, sir." Newkirk smiled.

"And why didn't you tell me this before?" Hogan frowned.

"I didn't know where to start." He rubbed the back of his neck. "These people have been playing a number with me head."

Schultz felt compelled to intervene. "In Newkirk's defense, Colonel. What would you have done if he had told you that story in the camp?"

Hogan nodded and grinned. "I probably would've made Wilson sedate him till Christmas."

"What should we do now?" Newkirk asked.

"We'll stay put. Let's see what we can learn about the situation." He clapped Newkirk's shoulder. "I can't say that I completely believe you but I can't overlook those bruises and marks. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. We'll work the mission and go back to camp." Hogan gave him a reassuring smile. "We'll stay together from now on, all right?"

"I agree!" Schultz said with a smile of relief.

Hogan and Newkirk smiled. "Thank you sir, and," said Newkirk in a pleading tone, "for the record, I wouldn't mind being sedated when this whole thing is over."

tbc

* * *

_Thank you for keep on reading and reviewing ;)_


	17. Have we eaten on the insane root?

_I know that never is too soon to update a story. I have to thank you all for being such constant readers. This story is over 100 marks already! So, this is a kind of celebration. Enjoy it :)_

* * *

_**17 Have We Eaten On the Insane Root?**_

They had dinner in a beautiful room. The rich decoration made the place look like a gallery in an art museum. The cupboards were filled to the top with miniature ornaments of different kinds. Spike sat at the table for several minutes before getting up and strolling around. He went over to the glass cases out of curiosity more than anything else.

He avoided the relics with religious connotations. He did not like them, and they did not like him. Next to them, there were several Fabergé eggs. Spike studied the display carefully. It would be just great to find among them the one with the golden swan on top. Of course, that would be also really convenient, and as he had learned through the years, convenience never came that easy.

"Do you like the Fabergé eggs, Herr Nagel?" Hogan came to stand next to him.

Spike stared at the colonel; quite a clever man indeed. Drusilla's mental control would not have worked on him as well as it had worked on Klink. Spike shrugged innocently. "I saw a couple of them in Paris."

The countess was following the conversation from her seat and smiled at them. "How about you, Corporal Newkirk? Have you heard about the Fabergé eggs?"

Newkirk noticed a hint of a grin in the lady's lips. He blushed. Of course he had. Any respectable thief had to know about the Fabergé eggs; most of them were well appraised in the black market. "Sure, they were made on demand, all original, the oldest date from eighteen eighty-five. They stopped the production right after the fall of the House of Romanov. Less than fifty survived, some are in private collections, some are missing."

"Very well, corporal," she smiled. "They were gifts for Easter time. They are beautifully decorated and hollowed to contain a little surprise inside. Sometimes, it would be a miniature sculpture, or a picture... or something more valuable." She went to a shelf on the wall and took a big book. She showed Hogan a picture. "This was a gift from Rasputin to the Tzarina Alexandra Feodorovna, Nicholas the Second's wife. As you can see, it's just a sketch, the original is missing. It is said that this egg has magical powers. Rasputin promised Alexandra that in moments of tribulation, she should open the egg and get the surprise out. Great powers would come to help her. They say he was talking about the revolution and the fall of the Empire."

By then, Hogan had begun to join the dots. At least, now he knew that it was not about a conventional egg anymore. Not even the head of a missile. He did not know what to make out of all of this. "It wasn't much help."

The countess smiled shyly. "Well, you see... There is a story about that." She sighed. "As you must know, the tzarina was from Germany, so it was expected for her to get her help from her own country. My great-great grandmother served as lady in waiting for the tzarina."

"Remarkable." Colonel Klink finished his supper and joined Hogan and the countess. "The stories she must have told you, Countess von Krauser ."

"I'm Elizabeth, Colonel Klink. That's not all. My great-great grandmother was not much of a lady, I must say. As soon as she knew about the revolution and the terrible things to come, she ran away from Russia. But before that, she packed some of the tzarina's precious jewelry, including that egg. The tzarina never had the chance to put it to the test... She and her family were assassinated two years later... After the Great War, my great-great grandmother married a count here in Germany and the rest is history... The egg has been in and out my family for generations. Sometimes, when the economic situation asked for it, my family put the egg on the market."

"What a shame," Klink said. "Is it highly appraised?"

"The artistic value is not that important, although yes, it's quite expensive right now." She sighed. "Unfortunately, the last time they pawned the Fabergé egg, it was stolen. Someone saw it at the flea market in the early nineteen twenties."

"That's a beautiful story," Mr. Jones dared to say. "Makes you wonder where that egg must be right now."

"Oh, it's surely in some General's private collection." Klink laughed. "The Nazi Party is full of opportunistic big shots."

To his chagrin, Hogan found himself concerned about Klink. He certainly did not buy Spike's explanation about mental control. He walked to the table to speak to Schultz. "Has the kommandant been drinking or taking pills of some sort?"

"Not at all," Schultz said, showing concern.

"I think he's sleepy. I'm sure that the second part of the story is not as fun as this one." Spike nodded. "Hey, Will. You want to go to bed now, don't you?"

"Bed? Oh yes," Klink yawned. "I'm sorry, Countess Elizabeth, I'll be more energetic in the morning."

Hogan waited till he was gone. "What's going on with him?" He asked Spike because he seemed to be responsible for most of their troubles.

"I told you, mental control. Dru put a glamor on Colonel Klink. I triggered it with a tarot card. Right now, Klink thinks he's dreaming. You can thank me for that. We must keep him out of our way, right?"

"Who is Dru?"

"My girlfriend," Spike said as if it were understood. "But we should stop asking questions of each other and pay attention to the real situation."

Hogan stared at him and then, at Newkirk. The corporal barely shrugged, as though he was not surprised by Spike's attitude. Hogan felt he was no longer in control of the situation and he hated that. "All right, moving on. Why are the Allies taking so much time looking for that egg? It looks nice, but I don't see how it can turn tables on the course of war. And don't bring along that part of the fairy tale."

"It's not a fairy tale, Colonel Hogan. The Allies might not know this, but the Nazis do and if they get this egg, the Russian Front will be lost. Those who get this egg will control a very powerful warlock. He will do whatever he's asked to. He can crush anything on his path, including his own beloved country." The countess hardened her expression. "You are a military man, you tell me what that would mean for the course of the war."

Hogan sank in his chair. He could not believe that he was the only rational person left in the room. He looked at Newkirk. "Why you?" He turned to Spike. "Why Newkirk?"

Spike smirked. "The egg is guarded by magic forces. Although they're not invulnerable, their powers are enough to keep thieves away. Only one with enough determination might be capable of getting through."

"Determined? As in stubborn and obstinate?" Hogan chuckled. "That I believe. If the rest of the story were true, Newkirk would be your man, indeed." He leaned forward in his chair and got very serious. "But I don't believe that chasing wild geese around is a priority, so, I'm withdrawing us from this job."

Newkirk closed his eyes. Somehow, that was the response he had been anticipating from Hogan. The next step would be the more painful for him. "Sir, I'm afraid I can't do that..." He sighed and lowered his head. "There is too much at stake here. I can't be responsible for what may happen if we don't intervene."

"But, Newkirk," Hogan said, touching his hand. "Look at you. These people are playing with your mind. If I don't get you out of here now, you might die."

"And that's exactly what I dread is going to happen to you if I don't stay."

Hogan frowned. "What does it mean? Has someone threatened you with me dying?" He looked up at Spike. "Have you?"

"Hey, I'm just another innocent victim here." Spike grinned.

"Oh, yeah? And what's with that uniform? Looks terribly authentic to me." Hogan crossed his arms. "Are you a Nazi?"

"Hell no! I drink them. I don't subscribe to their party."

"Excuse me," said Mr. Jones, raising his hand. "What are we talking about here? I think I've missed some thread of the conversation. Did he say that he drinks people?"

"Oh, that's because I'm a vamp-"

"Spike!" Hogan and Newkirk shut him up at the same time. Then, the colonel turned to Countess Elizabeth. "All right, give me something to work with. That egg, where can we find it?"

"The legend says that this egg contains Koshchei the Deathless' soul." The countess opened another book. "It's Russian mythology." She gave Hogan the book.

"Koshchei...powerful wizard... immortal...his soul is hidden... an egg, ...a duck, ...a hare, ...a box,... under an oak tree in a remote island?" Hogan looked at the countess and then at Newkirk and Schultz. "You too knew about this too?"

"Only the part about Koshchei, yes," Schultz said in a whisper. "And him," he glanced at Spike and lowered his eyes.

Hogan sighed with nostalgia. "Do you remember when we only used fairy tales to take our code names from them?" he said to Newkirk. He turned to Spike again. "And who are you? Prince Valiant?"

"Prince Valiant," Spike chuckled. "Oh, you're not joking." He straightened up. "I'm William, the Bloody, you can call me Spike."

The countess sprung up from her chair. "A vampire in my house?"

"So, you know him?" Newkirk asked.

"I told you I was famous," he shrugged.

"A vampire?" Mr. Jones adjusted his glasses.

"Vampire," Hogan shook his head. "I can't work with vampires. Newkirk, I'm sorry. I have to stay on the sane side of life. We're going back to camp."

"What? No!" Newkirk's eyes widened with despair. "I know this is madness but if we step out, someone else will get that egg and then, who knows what might happen." He came closer to Hogan. "Colonel, I always thought I would die young. Ever since I was shot down and sent to the prison camp, I was sure I would not last. You came to give us hope, there's no one else I would trust with me life... But now, it's up to you to trust me. Can you?"

Hogan looked around. He felt that his rational world was about to collapse. The worst part was that he seemed to be the only one who really cared. He met Newkirk eye to eye and nodded. "I trust you, Newkirk. I trust you with my life too." He sighed. "We'll play along with these fantasy people. No offense, Countess."

"None taken, Colonel." She smiled.

"And what's the next step?" Hogan asked Spike.

"Why, finding that bloody egg, what else?" Spike lit a cigarette.

"Don't smoke in front of my books!"

"You got that right, lady. I'm leaving now. You're coming with me," said he to Newkirk.

"Wait a minute. Newkirk works only for me." Hogan got up. "You may do whatever you want but he stays here."

"Relax, it's not like I'm taking him to the Gestapo. We're friends now, aren't we, Newkirk? I need him to help me look for the egg." Spike sighed. "The witch is doing the impossible to stop Newkirk from getting close to the egg. The closer he gets-"

"You want to use Newkirk as bait?" Hogan glared.

"Rather like a canary in a coal mine*," Spike chuckled.

"A what? And you think I'm gonna allow you to do that?" Hogan stepped forward.

"It's all right, Gov'nor. I'll take care of meself." Newkirk got up slowly.

"Aren't you afraid of him?" Hogan asked.

"Of this wanker? Not bloody likely." Newkirk chuckled.

"Hey, watch it. I can be dangerous, mate." Spike stepped forward

"Oh, sure. Blokes like you are more noise than anything else." Newkirk laughed. "I know how to deal with your kind, mate."

"You're just a little-"

"Enough, you two." Hogan rolled his eyes. "You'd better behave if you're going to work together."

"Like ruddy brothers," Spike said. "Let's go."

Hogan shook his head. He just hated losing authority in front of Spike "Couldn't this wait till tomorrow? You need to rest," he said to Newkirk.

"He's a ruddy creature of the night, Gov'nor. Only works at night. Besides, I don't think I could get any rest." He turned to look Hogan in the eye. "I've got everything under control, Gov'nor. Trust me."

Mr. Jones stood up and cleared his throat. "As a representative of London, I'd like to encourage you to go on, Colonel. This must be a scam of some sort, but until then, we can't forget that if there is a powerful secret weapon, it's our duty to protect it from enemy hands. Don't you think?"

"Nice speech," Newkirk shrugged.

"Famous last words too," Hogan sighed. "If things get ugly, as that Spike says, escape, all right? I'll do some research before I join you. Do you know where you're going?"

"No, but I'll leave a trail of crumbs."

"Do you have enough bread to do that?" Hogan grinned.

"Don't you worry, I still have some tricks up me sleeves." Newkirk smiled.

Hogan nodded and saluted his man. "Go on, then, Newkirk, the game's a foot!"

()o()o()

Newkirk followed Spike out of the house. Instead of taking the road to town, the vampire went the opposite way. Newkirk had the feeling that something was not right, but at this point, he was up to anything in order to be done with this mission. The longer they went, the more convinced he was that he was walking into a trap.

"Spike? Where are we going?" Covertly, Newkirk had been producing cards from under his sleeve to throw them on the ground.

"To end of this story right where it began," he said. The vampire crossed the street and turned a corner. A castle appeared before them. Numerous trees surrounded a narrow path leading to a nice garden.

Newkirk almost stopped. He had seen this path before; he had walked it several times in his dreams. "Spike? Why are we here?"

The vampire did not answer. He found an open gate and stopped. "Now, Peter, this is where we go separate ways." He walked upstairs and rang a bell. "Don't take it personal, I kinda like you, lad. But blood is thicker than water." He shrugged at the same moment that three Gestapo guards came out with their weapons aimed at Newkirk.

"You lied to us," Newkirk shouted at the vampire.

"What can I say? I'm evil," Spike lifted his shoulders, without a hint of remorse.

The corporal sighed and raised his hands. It was over. Whether it was Gestapo, the vampires or the witch, he was in no position to negotiate. Anyone could kill him the moment they wanted.

tbc

* * *

_Bad Spike! Bad, bad Spike..._

_* In other times, miners used canaries to detect poisonous gas in the mines. They kept working as long as the canary kept singing. Sometimes, the birds dropped dead in their cages, so the miners knew it was time to run out of the tunnels. (my sources: common knowledge and Wikipedia)  
_

_Leave your reviews if you please. See you next time ;)  
_


	18. Screw your courage to the sticking place

_**18. Screw your courage to the sticking-place**_

"Looks like a betrayal... sounds like a betrayal... feels like a betrayal." Spike completed his fifth walk around the cell and stopped. "We have been betrayed, haven't we?"

"If it looks like a duck and sounds like a duck... could it be a swan?" Drusilla frowned and sat at the table. "The important thing is that we are together again." She turned to Newkirk, who was sitting on the cot.

The corporal was not surprised by the turn of events. Instead, he was angry. "He wanted to stop the Krauts' evil plans, my arse."

"Don't tell me that you believe everything I say." Spike shrugged. "I'm evil. We don't keep our word or tell the truth all the time."

"I can see that now." Newkirk stood up and looked around. "This cell is not that sturdy. Why haven't you broken down the door yet?"

"Some nasty spell," Dru pouted. "I told you so when you came to me the other night."

"Oh, yeah," Spike narrowed his eyes. "What's with you two, anyway?"

"I don't talk to you, Spike," Newkirk glared at him. "Just wait till I get out of here. I'll rip your bloody head off!"

"He sounds so much like Angelus... I miss him and Darla..." Drusilla giggled. "We'll be such a happy family."

"Sod off! You don't have to bring that wanker into the conversation every two words." Spike snapped. "And what have you two been doing behind my back?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Drusilla said with a mischievous smile.

"Don't look at me, I was sleepwalking," Newkirk shrugged.

"I've seen the marks on his neck, Dru! It's Paris all over again!"

"Paris?" Newkirk grinned.

"Lucien didn't mean anything to me," Drusilla shrugged. "He wasn't even alive."

"I wouldn't blame him," Newkirk lied down to stare at the ceiling.

"Newkirk, I'll kill you," Spike growled. "I'll kill him, Dru."

"Can I play with him some more before you kill him?" Drusilla stood up and walked towards Newkirk.

Newkirk got up quickly. "Stay away from me you two, bloody vampires! This is your own fault, Spike. You're a plank if you think those wankers are going to let you and your bird go after you kill me. They must be digging three holes out there to throw our bodies as we speak!"

"Actually, only one will be needed, since Spike and I will just dust away," Drusilla nodded absently.

"Really?" Newkirk frowned as he pictured that. "Anyway, Spike, you betrayed me. That backfired on you, which makes me very happy."

"Good! Now, who wants more tea?" Drusilla went back to the table.

Spike and Newkirk stared at her for a moment. The vampire shrugged. "Lights are on but no one is home... that's why I love her so much, I guess."

"You won't make me feel sorry for you, Spike. Both of you are crackers!" He went back to the cot.

"What I don't get is why you kept me going back and forth, from and to Hammelburg, when you could call Newkirk anytime you wanted?"

Drusilla shrugged. "Wasn't it more fun that way?... The lady in distress with two knights in shining armor coming to the rescue?"

"Dru, you've never been in distress... and it's been a while since you were a lady." Spike shook his head and paced some more.

Newkirk winced suddenly. "Oh, no..."

"What? What's wrong?" Spike turned to see him sitting on the cot and looking miserable.

"It just dawned on me that if I've been here for real, I must've walked all the way from Hammelburg."

"So?"

"At night and in my nightshirt..." Newkirk pressed one hand on his forehead. "No wonder Countess Elizabeth thought she had seen me before... I must've crossed her garden like a half-dozen times!"

"In your nightshirt," Spike snorted. "You got lucky no one shot you."

Newkirk sighed. He would never see the end of it if the guys at the Stalag only knew.

"Oh, oh... Guess who's coming to dinner..." Drusilla sang, looking at the door.

Captain Grunwald came in with two of his men. He was particularly smiley this evening as his plan was finally paying off. He stepped in front of Newkirk. "Get up,"he said.

Newkirk smirked and shrugged. "Make me."

Immediately, the two guards stomped in and shoved him to the ground. Newkirk sat up with his elbows on his knees and glared.

"You show your spirit, Englander. I admire that in a soldier." Grunwald bowed slightly. "There's no need to antagonize. I have understood that you open safe boxes."

"That's the one thing you've got right, Gov'nor. But, unlike others," he glare at Spike, "I don't work for Nazis. It's a matter of ethics in the profession, you know?"

"This is not an employment offer. You will work for me and that's all."

"Blimey! This last week I've been threatened by the best. If I move to me right, me friends die, if I move to me left, same thing. I'd like to see you trying to match that."

Grunwald turned to Spike.

"Don't look at me. I made the delivery. I'm not your bloody hit-man." He shrugged and sat on the cot. "You promised to let me and my girlfriend go and we're still here. Why's that?"

"All in good time, my friend. He takes care of the box and I'll take care of you."

"I don't like the sound of that, Spike. If I were you, I wouldn't turn me back on him."

"You heard the man, I think we will leave now." Spike stood up and took Drusilla by the hand.

"No," said she. "The table is served and the guests are about to arrive." She pouted.

"I'm afraid that nobody leaves until I say so." Grunwald signed for the guard to get Newkirk on his feet. "Listen, boy. You do as I say or-"

"Are you going to torture him?" Drusilla's eyes glowed with excitement. "Can I help?"

Newkirk and Spike turned at the same time. "Drusilla!" they said.

"Nobody is torturing anybody!" Captain Grunwald breathed deeply. "Spike will kill you if you don't do as I say!"

"Oh, yeah, put it all on me." Spike snorted. "I did my part and that's it, I'm closed for business."

"I'll personally kill your girlfriend."

The vampire shook his head and shrugged. He turned to Newkirk. "The store is open again. Sorry, mate, nothing personal."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "All right, let's say that I cooperate and you show me the safe box. I don't guarantee anything. A witch put a spell on me. I'm completely disabled, can't touch a safe box or listening to the mechanism whatsoever. I don't see how I could-"

"Find the way!" Grunwald began to lose his patience. "My guards will escort you and Spike to the Supernatural History Museum. Drusilla will be waiting for you-"

"In the chamber of torture?"

"I have no need to torture anybody!" said Grunwald through his teeth. "If this thief fails, you all die!"

()o()o()

Hogan spent time in the library. He gathered information about Russian mythology and vampires and hexes... It seemed that his world had taken a wrong turn somewhere and the war had expanded its frontiers to the Never Neverland. He chuckled. Never in his life had he seen so many details about something that was supposed to be make believe. Tales for children...

"Colonel Hogan?" Schultz came in slowly. "Am I interrupting you?"

"Not at all, Schultz. What is it?" Hogan replaced the book he was reading. "Can't you sleep either?"

"Any news on Newkirk? It's been almost three hours since he left with that vampire." He stressed the name.

"I know. But Newkirk is very clever. He can take care of himself."

"Under normal circumstances, maybe. But he's not himself lately. You know-"

Hogan nodded. "Waiting is a little tedious, but I'm afraid that this mission is Newkirk's now. I'm here to back him up with some plan B."

"Do you have any plan B yet?"

"Well, no. But I'm working on it." He turned to the sergeant and grinned. "Schultz, what do you know about vampires?"

"What everybody knows, I guess," he shrugged. "That they drink blood and sleep in coffins..."

"That Spike introduced himself as William the Bloody. Have you heard the name before?"

Countess Elizabeth came in at that very moment. She went straight to one section of her books and pulled out one big volume. The title was _Vampyr_.

"Perhaps you want to read about him before going to bed."

Hogan smiled and took the book with both hands. "Heavy reading." He took it to the coffee table and opened the index.

"Chapter thirty-eight, under the name of the _Scourge of Europe_."

Hogan looked up at her and tilted his head. "Do you know what I'm looking for?"

The lady sat in front of him and nodded. "His name is William, born in London, where he died in eighteen eighty. That was the night when Drusilla turned him into a vampire. He's known as William the Bloody, or Spike. He earned that name from the way he tortures his victims. He nailed their brains with railroad spikes before killing them."

Schultz and Hogan exchanged glances. Both were thinking of Newkirk, outside with that monster.

"His only weakness is his sire. The vampire that turned him." Elizabeth looked for a picture in the book. "Her name is Drusilla. She was a good girl bound to be a nun until eighteen sixty when an extremely vicious vampire known as Angelus fixed his deviant mind on her. He felt her purity of heart and special powers."

"Special powers?" Hogan said absently while looking at the picture. She seemed very young and fragile; her big dark eyes stared intently at him. Her long, curly dark hair framed a beautiful face, rather sad and innocent.

"She had psychic abilities and the power of foretelling the future. Angelus became obsessed with her and wanted to destroy her. He tortured and killed all her family. He followed her to the convent where she had sought refuge and killed everyone in there. Angelus' atrocities drove her crazy. Only then, he decided to turn her into a vampire, as a testimony to his talent."

"So, she's crazy and a vampire?" Schultz dared to intervene.

"No just that. Besides the standard vampire powers, she can also get into people's minds and make them see whatever she wants. She can lure them into her dominion and she is a seer too."

"Colonel Klink, he's under her power then?" The sergeant began to understand the strange things that had been happening since they left the Stalag.

Hogan was pensive for a moment. Then, he frowned. "And they're always together, Spike and Drusilla?"

"Apparently," the countess said.

"I don't understand. We've seen him but where is she?" Schultz asked.

Hogan stared at Drusilla's picture. "You say that she can lure people from a distance? How far is that? Let's say, Hammelburg?"

Countess Elizabeth smiled. "What are you pondering, Colonel Hogan?"

"Something that Newkirk said about certain dreams. He walks into the forest to a castle. He goes down to the basement and finds a woman trapped in a cell under a spell..."

"But those are just dreams." Schultz turned to the countess. "Poor Englander, he's been sleepwalking in the camp, at midnight, in his nightshirt with this cold."

"A nightshirt?" It was the countess' turn to look surprised. "White and stripped?"

Hogan stared at her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's been happening several nights this week. I thought I was seeing a ghost," she chuckled. "But, now that I think about it, it might be your man. I said I thought I had seen him before."

"Where?"

"Through my garden. Up the hill to." Her eyes glowed with excitement. "Kohler Schloss."

"Newkirk has been walking from Hammelburg to Nuremberg and back, at night?" Schultz was amazed.

"All right, let's say that there is a strong connection between his dreams and that castle." Hogan began to pace. "We could assume that Drusilla is held captive in there. Gestapo, very likely... Spike has been harassing Newkirk to come with him..."

"So, it was a trap?" The countess asked.

"I shall assume that in order to proceed." Hogan shrugged. "Maybe I should pay the people of the castle a visit, see what's in there."

"You have to take me with you, colonel, please," Schultz stood up.

"All right." Hogan smiled. "Countess Elizabeth, would you mind keeping an eye on Colonel Klink and Mr. Jones? I need a free pass for the night."

"Certainly," she said. "Anything else?"

"This book. I need to refresh my knowledge on vampires. Until now, I thought all of them looked like Bela Lugosi.*"

"I'll send you some tea." She got up and left.

()o()o()

The Supernatural History Museum was located in the ancient part of the city right behind the marketplace. Only a few people were aware of its existence and less than half of them visited it per year. Moreover, the war and the raids had ended up by closing the building indefinitely.

The museum guard stared at this group of people wanting to enter at such odd times. He did not recognize the faces but this was the third time in one month that a group of soldiers had come by. They always brought someone in shackles and always asked to see the Russian exhibition at the end of the hall.

Newkirk watched his captors very attentively while the guard opened the door. In a quick motion, completely unnoticed, he produced a card from under his sleeve and tossed it on the street.

"Third door on your right." The guard looked at the group with wary eyes. "What is going on in that exhibition? You keep coming in but nobody comes out."

"What? W-what does he say?" Newkirk did not trust his lip reading in German but the words he caught at did not seem too cheerful.

Spike shrugged. "Don't speak Kraut."

The guards pushed Newkirk to move ahead. He complied hesitantly.

"These are the kind of jobs I hate, you know?" He said to no one in particular. "You never know when they're going to end and how much they're going to hurt."

They walked down the hallway into a gallery all decorated with Russian motifs. There were some authentic objects but most of them were imitations. Being a connoisseur, Captain Grunwald dreamed of filling the gallery with the original treasures. Once Germany had conquered the Russian Front, he would be in charge of the requisition and exhibition.

The guards walked to a door at the rear of the room. The place was a disaster zone, as though no one had cleaned and organized it in a long time. The safe box was hidden under a ton of papers and files right in the corner opposite the door.

Newkirk recognized the model as one of the easiest to crack and wondered why they had not found anyone else to do the job. One of the soldiers opened the shackles and pushed him towards the box.

"Schnell!"

Memories of his last time in Klink's office came to Newkirk's mind the moment that he crouched down in front of the safe box. He shuddered. He took his gloves off and rubbed his hands together. He cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat.

Spike glared. "What a bag of wank! Quit the act and open that bugger!"

Newkirk looked up at him. "Are you sure you don't have a bit of German in you?"

"Yeah, but I've drunk quite a few." Spike knelt down. "What is it? It ain't gonna bite you."

"Oh, that's what you think." Newkirk sighed and touched the box dial. He managed to rotate it a couple of times before his fingers began to burn. He winced and withdrew immediately. The pain crawled to his arms. Newkirk sat back. "Blimey! It used to be so easy in me younger years."

"That can be fixed," Spike grinned. "I could turned you into a vampire and that bloody curse wouldn't affect you anymore."

"Or I could muzzle you while I think what else to do." Newkirk stared at his fingers and shook his head. "Mental power's got to count for something."

"Can you do that? Block the pain just by thinking about it?"

"They say it's possible," he shrugged. "I may try." He closed his eyes and slowly laid his fingers on the box. The heath was intense but he found out that it made his fingertips more sensitive to the movements of the dial. He sweated and his hands trembled. "It's not working, it's not working," he whispered. Even so, he refused to let go the dial. One last click and he fell back overwhelmed by excruciating pain.

"By George, I think you made it!" Spike tried the handle and the door opened.

Newkirk sat back, nursing his aching hands. It had been rather faster and easier than he had thought. It was over. Just like that, the whole thing was over at last. He was so glad that he did not even care about the witch. She might not like the turn of events but there was not much she could do now.

"Just don't make me do it again," he said.

Newkirk was not paying much attention to what was inside the box. All he could see was the soldiers getting a black book. Someone read it and laughed. The other shook his head. There was something else in there, one small black orb at the rear. Newkirk was about to get it for a closer look when Spike grabbed him by the arm and threw him to the other side of the room.

The soldiers laughed and kept examining the contents of the box.

"What did you do that for?" Newkirk was angry and curious at the same time. He watched as one guard took out the orb. Then, Spike pushed him behind a pedestal and covered him with his own body.

"Close your eyes!"

A blinding light filled the place. Newkirk shut his eyes and covered his head with his arms. The silence was terrifying but he did not dare to look. Minutes passed until Newkirk felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Tough," Spike said. "You should've seen this, the poor blokes just disintegrated." He rubbed his eyes and blinked.

Newkirk looked around. Traces of the uniforms were scattered all over and a smell of burning flesh made him nauseous. "This can't be happening... This is not real! What the hell happened, anyway?" He got up and looked at the vampire. "Are you okay?"

"The light burned my eyes." He sounded rather annoyed.

Newkirk crouched and waved his hand in front of Spike. "Are you blind?"

"Not for long. I just need a couple of minutes." He sat down with his back against the wall with his eyes closed. "And don't even think of making jokes about being blind as a bat. I've heard them all."

Newkirk was still too shaky and dazzled to attempt getting up right away. He sat for a moment, staring at the remains of the soldiers. Although there was no blood, the rags of burned uniforms were a nightmarish vision. He had to turn some other way.

"What was that ruddy thing? Is that the new weapon?" He asked.

"Nope, just an orb of lightning bolt." Spike said matter-of-factly. "Merlin's old recipe for _don't mess with the supernatural or else."_ Spike chuckled. "Someone must've been taking cooking lessons."

"Baba Yaga?" Newkirk asked.

"Basically," the vampire said.

Newkirk crawled to the safe box. "What are they made of?"

"None of your bloody business!" The urge on Spike's voice was more a warning than a threat. "Just stay away from that box, you hear me?"

"All right, keep your knickers on," Newkirk said with a shake of his head.

Spike kept his eyes closed. "There are things in magic that must never get into human hands. It's too bloody dangerous... Apocalyptic consequences. No joke on that. "

Newkirk sat back again. "Does it hurt?"

"The Apocalypse?"

"Your eyes, nitwit."

Spike sighed. "It's nothing permanent." He turned to Newkirk and squinted. "I can almost see you again. Not a nice view, though."

"Awfully funny," Newkirk smirked while leafing through the diary. He was not in the mood for reading and only stopped at the headlines of the first pages. "_Diary of Otto Eichenholz: I finally found a resting place for Koshchei's soul... In an island, under an oak tree, inside an egg, inside a hare..._" He shrugged. "Nothing new. This is the same rubbish that it's in every book about Russian folk tales."

"So, what a surprise. This is the end of the road." Spike got up and headed for the door.

Newkirk followed him. "But where are you going?"

"Back to the castle to fetch my girlfriend."

Newkirk had to run. "Listen. If you get there now, they'll kill you and Drusilla."

"Oh, sure. And you're telling me this because you're fond of us and don't want anything bad happening, right?" Spike crossed his arms on his chest.

"Of course not. But I need you... I mean your ears. This was just a trap. It's not over yet. That ruddy thing is somewhere around. This blasting box wasn't here just by chance. Someone took real care to hide that egg and I need to find it as soon as possible." Newkirk's hands began to hurt again. "That Kraut in the castle doesn't know what happened here. He won't expect us to return so soon. We'll get him after we get the egg, all right?"

Spike stared at him, pondering his options. "All right. But if we fail, I still can kill you."

"That's the spirit!"

"Where do we start, then?"

Newkirk looked around and smiled widely. "I've got no idea."

tbc

* * *

_*Bela Lugosi, **Dracula, **1931_

_Read and review please :)  
_


	19. Come what come may

_**19. Come what come may**_

"In the dark, dark wood, there was a dark, dark house..."

"Miss Drusilla?" Captain Grunwald entered the cell with one of his men. "May I speak to you?"

The lady in white was sitting on the cot with her eyes on the floor and rocking back and forth. Her long dark hair concealed her features while she sang.

"And in that dark, dark house, there was a dark, dark room..."

"I wonder if you'd be able to contact your boyfriend and-"

"And in that dark, dark room, there was a dark, dark cupboard..."

"Miss Drusilla, I want to know if you-"

"And in that dark, dark cupboard, there was a dark, dark shelf..."

"It's useless, Her Captain, she's not cooperating tonight." The corporal refused to take another step forward.

"Are you scared? You have your talisman with you, don't you?" he grinned. "She can't do us any harm."

"And on that dark, dark shelf." She stood up very slowly and began to sway from left to right. "... there was a dark, dark box..." Her feet were light on the ground. She stopped right in front of them.

" Hasn't it been enough with the innocent bystanders that we have provided for you?" Captain Grunwald kept his ground. "Miss Drusilla, I require just a little cooperation here. I need to know-"

"And... in that dark... dark... box...," her voice was now a whisper. "... There was... A Ghost!" She lifted her face. The first thing they noticed was that her features had hardened. Her eyelids were missing and her eyes were yellow. White long fangs replaced her perfectly straight teeth. Although she kept her voice in control, once in a while, she growled.

She transformed so fast that it made them both soldiers step back. They quickly produced the relics they were carrying under their shirts. She stopped but still grinned. Behind her, they saw a shadow moving towards them. Drusilla stared at Captain Grunwald.

"Why, Captain, are you scared yet?" She kept her gazed on him. "Your mamma is calling you... She made cupcakes for you and your little friends... Go to the highest tower, she's waiting for you..."

Grunwald began to picture his mother on the roof with a tray of cupcakes. He could almost smell them. Deep inside, he had the urge to run upstairs to meet her... Only discipline and the amulet helped him to keep his head clear.

"Enough!" He straightened up. "If you don't want to cooperate, we'll cut on your rations."

"Poor, little soldiers," she pouted. "Ten little soldiers all in a row. A shot rings out-"

The ghost of the castle appeared as a shadow that charged against the corporal and crushed him against the wall. He fell down dead instantly.

"... down to nine..."

This time, Captain Grunwald retreated and locked the door. "That was an impressive trick, but ineffective. I'll bring you more blood but you must start working for us. We know how to deal with your boyfriend. We may hurt him if we want to."

"Can I watch?" Her face softened back to her natural beauty. "I haven't tortured him in a long, long time."

()o()o()

"You're barking, Spike. Utterly barking mad!" Newkirk could hardly breathe after a titanic race around the city. Although he did not know much about vampires, he could see that his traveling companion was holding back to give him time to catch up. "What the bloody blazes are you doing up there?"

Spike looked down at the young corporal. He chuckled and shook his head. He hardly remembered what it felt like to be about Newkirk's age and mortal... So many limitations... He sat down at the top of the Hangman's bridge to contemplate the view by the river. "We're looking for a bloody island, aren't we?"

"You can't see the city from there, that roof is too low!"

"But it's a hell of a view, all the same," he whispered. Spike would never tell that deep inside, he still kept some traits of his previous life as a poet. Those were the things he did not like to brag about. They did not match his tough guy image. "There are no islands in the city. Shouldn't we go to the docks?" He stood up on the edge and jumped.

Newkirk closed his eyes and dodged. Spike landed on his feet, right next to him "Nice trick, do you fly too?" He was not impressed anymore. After a while, Spike could be rather annoying.

"No island around here."

Newkirk took a deep breath and prayed for patience. "Don't take it so literally. The diary talks about places in the city. _Island _is just a code for something else. Look around you. What d'you see?"

Spike shrugged. "Water, the channels-"

"The bridges, Spike. The entire city is a bloody island, you twit!"

"Hey, belts up! I ain't having a blinder here neither," yelled Spike. "If you say this is an island, it's an island. Now what, genius boy? Enlighten me."

Newkirk turned around. "We need to decide what island to follow." His brow wrinkled while he thought. "Let's see... _Strasse _is road... what's the German word for _island?_"

"Beat me, _Island Strasse?_" Spike shrugged. "I told you, I don't speak Kraut."

Newkirk was about to beat this vampire senseless when his eyes read a small sign at the top of a building. _EILANDSTRASSE. "_Blimey!"

"Blimey o'reilly!" Spike chuckled. "Now what, Sherlock?"

"We need an oak tree."

"A real tree or a let's-pretend-it's-a-tree tree? How do you say _oak tree _in German, anyway?"

"_Eichenholz, _but I sup-"

Spike made a sudden move to cover Newkirk's mouth and pull him into an alley.

"Hey!"

"Shh!" Spike turned to the street. "Night patrols. Curfew... there's a war, you know?"

Newkirk held his breath. He felt useless without his hearing. Time with Spike had made him forget about that. Newkirk was sure that he would not last long on his own. He looked on the vampire as his only connection with the world. Spike kept his eyes on the street as the predator waiting for his prey.

In the wink of an eye, his face changed radically. There was a growl before he jumped over two soldiers walking down the street. He bit the first one on the neck while the other tried to find his voice to scream. Seconds later, the first soldier fell as Spike held the other one's head backwards and drank from his neck too.

Newkirk did not move. In his head, he was still processing the out-of-this-world events he had been witnessing. In a matter of days, he had interacted with all kinds of non-human creatures who had done unspeakable things to his body... And yet, he could not believe that someone looking like a regular bloke could drink all that blood out of a man.

Spike walked towards him and Newkirk stepped back. "What is it?" he asked. His voice sounded deeper behind the fangs. Newkirk pointed at his brow and eyes and Spike laughed. "Oh, sorry." He changed immediately to his normal alluring self. "It's my game face," he shrugged. "Get used to it."

Newkirk smiled while his heart slowed down. "I'm sorry I called you a twit."

Spike was still laughing when his eyes locked on something. "Newkirk? How do you say _oak tree _in German?"

"_Eichenholz_, just like the bloke in the diary," he said turning in the same direction. A few buildings in front of them, there was an old house with a nice carved sign: _Otto Eichenholz - Buchhandlung. _

()o()o()

Corporals Hans and Fritz drove down the street looking for prospects. This had been their third time out and by the way things were going, it would not be their last.

"She's insatiable tonight." Hans shook his head. "I'd like to go to sleep before dawn."

"At least, we're not the main course. That cute monster has killed four guards in less than two days. Good thing that we had so many people in this town." Fritz kept looking around.

"Yeah, better them than us," Hans laughed. "Let's go down for a couple of blocks. Let's see if we're lucky and still find some lost souls out."

OOO

Hogan changed into civilian clothes, finished his tea and went out. The manor had beautiful gardens behind and in front of it. Any other time, he would have liked to go and sit there. But tonight, he was out only to look for Newkirk. The sole idea of his corporal running over the city with a vampire was disturbing. He had an uneasy feeling about the things that might happen to him.

The night was not too cold. Hogan chose a street and walked on. Everything was quiet; just as he liked it; it helped him think. There was not a soul in the street after curfew, only him.

Suddenly, Hogan heard steps behind him. He did not stop, or run. He kept walking until he reached a darkened area on the sidewalk. He blended with the shadows and waited. His heartbeat accelerated with expectation as he put his hand under his coat, looking for his gun. He did not want to use it, but he was ready all the same.

"Colonel Hogan?" The familiar voice was soft and shy, just to put Hogan at ease. "Please, don't shoot."

Hogan smiled and put his gun away. He came out and touched Schultz on the shoulder. "What are you doing here," he said as the sergeant started and turned.

"I'm supposed to keep an eye on you and Newkirk, remember? The Englander is not here, I can't lose you too."

"It's okay, Schultz. We're not escaping, I promise."

Schultz noticed Hogan's glance at his rifle and he laughed. "I wasn't planning to shoot you." He looked around at the empty streets. "Are you looking for Koshchei's soul too?"

"Isn't everybody these days?" Hogan resumed his walk. "You don't have to come with me. I'll just find Newkirk and we'll be at the manor tomorrow morning. Really."

"I believe you, but I don't think you can comply. This is a very dangerous task. You might get hurt or worse." Schultz walked next to him. "I can go with you and pretend that you're my prisoner if we meet some patrol on the way."

Not a bad idea, Hogan thought. At least, he would not get bored. Only a couple of steps later, something caught Hogan's attention. It was a small card, from an old deck. He picked it up and smiled.

"Eureka!"

"What's that? A ten of diamonds?" Schultz took it and shrugged.

"Not just a ten of diamonds, Schultz. It's Newkirk's. He must have come this way." He looked around for more cards.

"There's another one over there." Schultz pointed several meters in front of them.

Hogan was about to pick up another card when he heard someone running after them. Schultz turned in that direction.

"Could it be Newkirk?" he asked.

Hogan squinted, shaking his head. The man running towards them was shorter. He wore a white raincoat, visible miles away. "Mr. Jones."

"Herr Schmidt?" Schultz said. He grinned at Hogan's stare of surprise. "Come on, Colonel Hogan. You know I never forget a face, if I don't want to. That's the same man you called Olsen back in camp. I know he's not even German."

Hogan chuckled and waited for Mr. Jones to get closer and regain his breath. The inspector breathed deeply several times, then, he pointed at Schultz with his head.

"Does he know?"

"No," Hogan and Schultz answered at the same time.

"And I don't want to know," the sergeant nodded.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Jones?" Hogan asked.

"You didn't think you would bring me all the way here to stay in that manor reading first editions, do you?"

"Of course not," Hogan shrugged. "All right, you may come, but please, don't ask questions." He turned and kept walking. Several footsteps later, he picked up another card.

"What's that?" Mr. Jones asked.

"Questions, Mr. Jones." Hogan dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "The trail is leading to that castle over the hill."

Schultz picked up another card. "There's another trail of cards following down that street."

Hogan studied the situation. "Newkirk was here. He probably went to the castle first and then, that other way..." He frowned.

Before he could get to any conclusion, a black car turned the corner. Hogan pushed Schultz and Mr. Jones into an alley. Two men in Gestapo uniforms came out.

"Hey, you, come out here, now!" Corporal Fritz's voice was harsh and mean. Hans did not talk much. He preferred the quiet approach.

"They didn't see you," Hogan whispered. "Schultz, you must follow the trail down the street. Find Newkirk."

"But, Colonel..."

"Shh! Just do as I say." Hogan walked into the open. He would not offer resistance. Staying alive was the priority. There would always be a way to escape.

Schultz stayed in the shadows for a while after the two men took Hogan. They did not use pistols or brute force, they used a handkerchief and chloroform. "Das ist nicht gut,"_ This is not good,_ he said. He turned to see Mr. Jones struggling to write down some notes in the dim light. Schultz shook his head, "gar nicht gut..." _not good at all._

()o()o()

Spike leaned on the door and yawned. Newkirk had been testing the lock of the bookstore for almost ten minutes. "Are you going to open it anytime this century? I don't think the war will last that long."

"For someone who has all the time in the world you are terribly impatient." Newkirk took his lock picks. He still hesitated a little more. The pain in his burned fingertips increased.

"What? Is this a new technique on picking locks? You wait till it opens by itself? Do you want me to kick it open?"

"You're not helping, Spike... A broken door might get unwanted attention, don't you think?" Newkirk inserted the pick in the lock but as soon as he twisted it, the piece broke. "Bloody hell!" He stepped back and kicked the wall. Pain consumed most of his frustration, but he had to bite his lip to suppress a scream.

"Just brill! Now you can't walk either," said Spike rolling his eyes.

Newkirk sat on the ground and pouted. "I used to be good at this... I used to be good at so many things," he sighed. "This is ridiculous. I'll call the witch, tell her she won." He had not thought of getting up when a superhuman strength pulled him up. He felt his feet lifting off the ground.

Spike held Newkirk by his neck. "Listen, now, Peter Newkirk. I've got all the time in the world and the only thing I like in this rubbish life is my Drusilla. If she dies, nothing else matters. You die, your precious Colonel Hogan dies... your friends at the Stalag and all this entire bloody world could go to those wankers for all I care. You brought me this far to find that bloody egg and that's what we're going to do." He changed into his game face. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Absolutely, mate. Whatever you say." Newkirk spoke between gasps. "C-can you put me down? I think I'll try again now."

Newkirk got another lock pick and began to work on the door. The pain did not matter much all of a sudden. Although it took him a little longer than usual, the lock finally gave in. He could at last breathe.

"Pain as a motivator," Spike sneered. "Never fails."

"Those long fangs of yours helped too." Newkirk opened the door.

They entered the place slowly. It was dark but the lights of the street illuminated parts of it. Books were scattered on the floor as though a twister had passed through. The shelves were half empty and the few books remaining had been torn apart.

"And you were concerned about a broken door." Spike looked around. "D'you see any box or egg? I think we're barking up the wrong tree, so to speak."

Newkirk closed his eyes and counted till ten. Riding with vampires was more annoying than he had thought. If he could, he would lose Spike at the turn of a corner. He opened his eyes again to see the barrel of a rifle inches away from his nose. The man behind it was talking to him. The few words he could catch from his lip reading, advised him to stay as still as possible.

"Easy, gramps, we're not what you think," said Spike.

"A Luftwaffe officer and a British corporal. You're trespassing on my property, looking for something. Maybe a box."

Newkirk turned to Spike and both shrugged. "All right, that's what we look like, but with good reason." Newkirk kept his hands up. "How did you know what we're looking for?"

"Are you blind? Someone came earlier and turned everything upside down."

"And that box, is kind of important for you?"

"Not as much as you. Breaking in like thieves..." the old man cocked his rifle. "First, the Nazis, then that giant in white, now you two... Everybody looking for a box all of a sudden. Well, I don't have it." He kept his weapon ready. "It hasn't been here in years... the previous owner got it in the flea market but after he died,-"

"White giant you said?" Newkirk just prayed he was misreading the words.

"Wait, what's that noise?" Spike turned to the aisle.

"Don't move!" The old man said.

"What noise? I can't hear, rememb-?" Newkirk realized that there was a clicking sound. "How come I hear that? Did I get me hearing back?"

"No, you haven't." Spike stared at the shelves. "Did you mention a white giant, Herr Eichenholz?"

"He came early this morning smashing everything around... I shot him..." he shook his head. "But I'm not Eichenholz-"

"There it is again." Newkirk turned. "But, how come I hear it? I can only hear you because you're not alive."

"Neither is he." Spike stepped back when a huge man, all dressed in a white Cossack uniform, moved towards him. "White Dawn, it's past your bedtime, innit?"

One gloved hand grabbed Spike by the neck. Next thing the vampire was flying across the store and through the window. The white Cossack came running from behind to grab Newkirk by one arm. The Englishman crawled away but White Dawn pulled him by his ankle. Newkirk fell face down on the floor. He looked for anything to anchor himself to but he found nothing. He was hopelessly dragged towards that white creature waiting behind him. Newkirk was sure of one thing only... this was going to hurt.

tbc

* * *

_Happy reading! See you later... or maybe sooner ;)_


	20. Was the hope drunk?

_N/A: I don't encourage excessive drinking ;) _

* * *

_**20. Was the hope drunk...?**_

The old man fired his gun but White Dawn did not move. Newkirk turned on his back, the tall man in white still pulling at his ankle. Newkirk grabbed every book he could reach and threw them at him. One hit White Dawn's hand and made him open it. Newkirk did not wait for anything. He sprung up, looking for the exit. Spike was on the street, still groggy but on his feet.

"Newkirk! Let's go!" He said.

Newkirk's first impulse was to run, but in seconds, he remembered that the old man was still in the store. He stopped and turned. Spike saw him getting back inside and he cursed. Those were the kind of heroic acts that made humans so vulnerable, he thought.

White Dawn had cornered the man. Newkirk came from behind and jumped to grab him by the neck. The man in white spun around, trying to get Newkirk off his back. He stepped back to crush Newkirk against the wall. The Englishman fell down but not for long. White Dawn grabbed him by the neck and lifted him till their eyes were at the same level. The man did not have pupils, his eyes were completely white. Newkirk was not surprised.

He swung his feet but he could not longer touch the ground. White Dawn opened his mouth and some kind of mist came out. Newkirk felt cold air entering his nostrils and mouth. Although in his mind he knew it would not be a good idea, he could not help but exhale deeply. Everything went dark and he almost fainted.

Spike ran inside the store. Without pausing to think his next move, he jumped and kicked White Dawn on the side. The impact made the giant loosen his grip on Newkirk. The Englishman fell down to the floor. He was dizzy, but through his blurred eyes he saw Spike engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the ghostly man.

The giant staggered and before he could respond, the vampire kicked him again. White Dawn did not yield, he grabbed Spike's fist before it connected with his chest and crushed it. The pain was intense. Spike let it out in a scream as the same time that his features switched into his game face. He took advantage of the grip and swirled. The sudden movement brought White Dawn's arms into an uncomfortable position. He had to let the vampire go. Spike punched him on the ribs with his elbow and lifted it against his chin. White Dawn stepped back just to be punched one more time and then, pushed into the next room. Spike quickly locked the door and dragged two heavy shelves against it. Then, he came to pull Newkirk to his feet.

"We've got to get out of here!" He said.

"Herr Eichenholz," Newkirk whispered.

Spike growled impatiently. He went back for the old man and pushed him out of the store.

"What was that?" the old man asked. "I thought he was gone."

Spike straightened up and his face changed back to normal. "Let's get out of here."

They began to walk, occasionally turning back just to make sure that White Dawn was not following them.

"Herr Eichenholz, you mentioned- a box..." Newkirk's voice weakened by the minute. "What happened with it?

"I'm not Herr Eichenholz. He was the previous owner and died almost ten years ago. I kept the name of the store because it was cheaper than getting another sign." The man stopped. "That damn box, they say it's cursed. It has been gone for so long and suddenly, everybody wants it. Herr Eichenholz kept it in his store until his death. Then, it went to his brother's hands."

Newkirk felt short of breath and had to bend over. with his hands on his knees. "And this brother, where can we find him?"

"Last thing I heard, he lived six blocks from here in that direction," he said, pointing north.

"And... his name is?" Breathing was painful now.

"I don't remember. Eichenholz is the last name. But you can't miss his house. It's next to Saint Michael's Church, that's his Parrish."

"A priest?" Spike smirked with disgust.

"It's been ages since I went that way; and after last week's bombardment, the place must be in very bad shape." The man looked at Newkirk and frowned. "Are you all right? You're getting awfully pale."

Spike turned to Newkirk and winced. He did not look good at all, indeed.

"But who was that Russian giant? Why did he want to tear my bookstore apart?"

"Long story, mate. Not a pretty one." Spike shrugged. "You'd better go home and stay away from there for one day. Just give the white bloke time to cool off... so to speak." He pulled Newkirk's sleeve. "C'mon, we've got to get moving."

()o()o()

Newkirk endured the walk for several blocks but suddenly the air deserted his lungs and he collapsed on the ground. Spike got him into an alley and made him lean against the wall. He slapped him on the face until Newkirk opened his eyes.

"Can't breathe," he whispered.

"You are breathing. You can't feel the air in your lungs because they're numb." Spike stared at his eyes. "The white bugger blew his arctic breath on your face, didn't he?"

"W-what does it mean?" Newkirk shivered uncontrollably.

"Well, in a nutshell, you're frozen from the inside out." He shrugged.

"S-sounds b-bad enough," said Newkirk through his teeth. "Now w-what? Am I d-dying?"

"Not yet. This is usually a long agony that can last for years," he grinned.

"S-Spike!" Newkirk grabbed him by the collar of his coat. "D-do something!"

"All right. Let me think." He got up and looked around. One idea came to his mind. "Got any money?"

"W-What?"

"Money, mate. I don't carry cash."

Newkirk tried to reach the inner pocket of his coat but his hands shook too much. "In m-me pocket..."

Spike took all the bills and grinned. "Be back on a tick."

()o()o()

Mr. Jones saw Schultz picking up another card, the fourth in three blocks. He frowned. After sharing some time with these people, he had started to think that everybody was a little crazy. Maybe the war was affecting them more than they thought.

"Sergeant, may I have a word with you?"

"Herr-," Schultz had not caught the man's name and he did not think he wanted to anyway. First, they had said he was Countess Elizabeth's solicitor and then, he had identified himself as a London envoy, whatever it meant.

Mr. Jones smiled. "I was wondering if you have any idea of what is going on here."

"I'm sorry but I don't have time. I need to find Newkirk and come back to rescue Colonel Hogan."

"This was a clean operation. Kidnapping, no doubt about it." Mr. Jones took his notebook and wrote that down. "And those cards you've been collecting, is there any connection with the abduction?"

"I don't know. I don't think Newkirk is aware of what's going on here..." Schultz stopped to see in which direction to go next. He saw an old sign towards the Supernatural History Museum and sighed. "Why not?" He put his rifle over his shoulder and went that way. Mr. Jones just followed the leader.

()o()o()

Newkirk rubbed his eyes and felt his eyelids heavy and cold. Every breath hurt in his chest and back and his fingers were so numb that he could hardly clench the front of his coat. His teeth chattered and he could not stop shaking. A sudden sleep invaded him and his mind began to drift away.

"_Golden slumbers fill your eyes..."_

He heard a sweet voice and tried to follow it in his sleep.

"Are you dead yet?" Spike's careless voice brought him back to reality. The vampire saw him open his eyes and grinned with relief. He sat down next to him and showed him a bottle in a paper bag.

"W-what-?"

"The best remedy there is," Spike opened the bottle. The smell of whiskey invaded the place. "Here, have a drink."

Newkirk frowned. His hands were so weak that Spike had to hold the bottle while he took a sip. A sudden cough woke him up. "It's hot," he said.

"Warm whiskey, it'll melt the ice inside." Spike had a drink too and sighed. "Don't you feel closer to home when you taste this? Sometimes, after running so many adventures like this... traveling around the world and all that number, I sit and drink... Then, I remember what things used to be like at home, when nothing special happened... You know, quiet afternoons watching life go by... And I realize how much I miss that..."

Newkirk took the bottle with both hands. He too missed those lazy days at home, right before his mother died or things with his father went down the drain. But there was a war now, and he could not give himself time to linger over things that were there no more. He took another sip. "You're balmy, Spike."

Some time, and half a bottle later, Newkirk began to regain the feeling in his hands and feet. His breathing was no longer painful and the tremors stopped. He stared at the bottle and shook his head.

"Is this half empty or half full? What do you think?" He put it right on Spike's face.

The vampire took it and had another sip. He blinked and said. "Def- def'ntly half empty."

Newkirk snatched the bottle. "Hey, I'm the one who's ssick-" He drank and sighed. "Why is Baba Yaga so mean to me? I'm just a regular bloke... not much luck in life, though..."

"Don't get me started with luck and life... Those two ladies have always been very evasive to me..."

"You? With a name like William the Bloody?" he chuckled. "Birds love bad boys..."

"I wasn't a vampire yet when they got me that name..." Spike grimaced with disgust and nostalgia. "I was a nancy boy, living at home with mother, writing stupid poems for a stupid bird... They called me William the Bloody because of the bloody poems I wrote..." he chuckled with sadness. "And you know what that silly bint said to me after I bled my heart for her in that poem? She said... She said that I was beneath her... Can you believe that? Beneath her..."

"Bugger," Newkirk shook his head lazily. "Some birds..." He hugged the bottle against his chest. "And then, she turned you into a vampire?"

"It wasn't her! My Sire was like... like an apparition... a ghost with shining, lovely...effulgent eyes."

"Effulgent!" Newkirk laughed. "That's a funny word!"

Spike elbowed him. "Pay attention! Drusilla was my salvation from mediocrity. She brought excitement and meaning to my empty existence... I'm nothing without her." He dropped his head over his chest and began to snore.

"That was so deep, mate," Newkirk sighed. He took a purposeful breath and tried to get up. "We'll get your sweeth-, your sweetha-...your love back. They'll pay f-for all of this..." He sank down to the ground again and laid his head on Spike's shoulder.

()o()o()

Schultz walked as he had not walked in years. With Hogan and Newkirk out of sight, he felt it was up to him to defend his post. But what post was that? He did not know. He might go back to Stalag XIII and tell Kinch what had happened. But how about Captain Grubber? He did not even know about the Fabergé

egg or the vampires or the witches.

Mr. Jones followed him very closely, wishing he had a rifle too. His little pistol would not be much use in a cross fire attack. Not that he was waiting for engagement, though.

"Sergeant Schultz? Do you have any idea where to go? Do you know this city at all?" He gasped. "Maybe we need a map."

"Herr Jones, I don't have any idea where to go but I can't read maps either," the sergeant shrugged. "Besides, the cards are leading us this way."

"Yeah, but where to? That museum looked like a disaster zone, and the bookstore? It looked like a tornado went through it several times! There's no trace of Corporal Newkirk, except for those cards that keep showing up on the ground every two steps." He stopped to catch his breath. "Come to think about it, I haven't seen any card the last three blocks. We lost him."

"Newkirk and the vampire have to be around, following the clues to that egg." He stopped and turned. "They can't be that far."

Mr. Jones was about to protest again when the sergeant shushed him. Not so near, not so far, the wind was carrying an out-of-tune song. Schultz recognized one of the voices right away.

_...but the devil take the women, for they never can be easy_

_musha ring dumma do damma da  
whack for the daddy 'ol  
whack for the daddy 'ol  
there's whiskey in the jar!_

Both men followed the voices into an alley. There, they found Newkirk and Spike singing, drinking and laughing.

"Oh, Gott, Newkirk," Schultz crouched down to put one hand over the Englishman's shoulder. "What has that vampire done to you?"

"Done? I saved his bloody life, that's all," Spike said getting up slowly. He shook his head and everything spun around. "Bloody hell!"

"Schultzie, me mate!" Newkirk grabbed the sergeant's sleeve and let him help him to his feet. "You have no idea what's going on here."

"Neither do you." Schultz had to wrestle the bottle from Newkirk's hand. "Listen, we need to get out of here, all right? Let me help you."

"Does he have a drinking problem?" Mr. Jones frowned.

"Now the bloody wanker is going to write that down on his bloody notebook," Newkirk said, leaning heavily on Schultz. "Shame on you, Jones, shame on you..."

"I'm sure he has a good explanation for this." Schultz walked Newkirk outside the alley. "We need to find a place to hide and think."

"There aren't many options." Mr. Jones looked around at the stores and magazine stands all closed for the night. "I think the park is out of the question, which leaves us just one more place." He pointed with his pen at the church across the park.

"You've got to be joking," Spike said. "I can't go in there."

"That's not a problem..." Newkirk made an effort to enunciate clearly. "You just... lurk ar-... lurk ar-, I mean, look about..."

Schultz could not be happier. "The church it is. Come, Newkirk, you'll feel better soon."

tbc

* * *

_Again, thank you for reading ;)_

_See you!  
_


	21. Fie, my lord, fie!

_**21. Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? **_

"_This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses._"

Hogan was still fighting the somnolence when that sweet voice began to recite. He could not see much through the semidarkness but he could tell it was a cell somewhere in a very old building. He tried to get up but a gentle hand pushed him back on the cot. Hogan's sight began to clear and he saw a beautiful woman smiling at him.

"_But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound into saucy doubts and fears." _

Hogan recognized her from the old picture in the book of vampires. This one was Drusilla. He began to sit up very slowly, the same way he would have done it in front of a lion or a cobra. She kept her eyes on him, seeking the spring that at one touch would make him surrender to her desires. Hogan smiled.

"That's from Shakespeare, Macbeth, right?"

Drusilla smiled back. Suddenly, she had lost interest in drinking him to death. "Act three, scene four." She tilted her head. "Do you know Macbeth? Lady Macbeth is my favorite character."

"That would've been my second choice after Ophelia from Hamlet," he said in a soft voice. Now that he had turned her attention to something else, the next step would be gaining her trust.

"Ophelia? I love Ophelia!" She jumped and began to dance and sing: _And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead: Go to thy death-bed: He never will come again..."_

"Nice place you have here." Hogan stood up to study the situation. He turned to see her and smiled. "Sorry, we haven't been introduced. I'm-"

"Robert Hogan, colonel, US Army..." She closed her eyes and sighed. "I love army men.. Tin soldiers have been bringing me nice peasants for dinner... so thoughtful of them..." She came very close. "Do you want to play with me? I've been so bored. There is not much to do in this place. No one to talk to..." She pouted and an invisible fist hit the wall. "Oh, well, except for that ghost."

"Ghost?" Hogan frowned.

"Herr Kohl, the owner of this castle... I think he's got bored too and he's gone," she yawned.

Hogan shook his head as he tried to make sense out of that gibberish. "And those... tin soldiers, do you know who they are?"

"They call themselves Gestapo." She shrugged. "I'm Drusilla." She held out her hand for Hogan to kiss. "I like you, Colonel. I won't eat you just yet."

Hogan rubbed his neck and sat at the table. Drusilla sat down with him and smiled.

"Don't trouble your heart." She took her tarot and spread out some cards. "Let's see what's in your future... and then, we'll have some tea with Miss Edith."

"Miss Edith?"

"My doll. She's a little frisky, so I left her at home..."

Hogan rolled his eyes. Between this crazy vampire and the Gestapo, the evening promised to be long but interesting.

()o()o()

"_Captain Grunwald, we need results, and we need them now!_

"Absolutely, Colonel Zebmeier. I'm working on it as we speak-"

"_What? The Fabergé egg of your fairy tale? The HQ are not interested in chasing rainbows. We're relieving you of your assignment."_

"Colonel, you can't do that to me! I'm very close. The victory is at hand, sir."

"_It will be! But we'll do it in a more conventional way, Captain. Now, we only need you to pack and come back to Berlin immediately."_

"But, Colonel-"

"_You'll obey my orders! No more scavenger's hunting!"_

The line was dead and Captain Grunwald's dreams too. He could not believe the lack of respect and faith his superiors were showing him. In two more days, the secret weapon would have been his and the war would have ended in less than a week. He was mad, furious, but not discouraged. He would continue his quest with or without the support of his superiors. It would be their loss. For now, he had two vampires under his control. When he found the egg, he would be in command of everything and everybody. He would show them all.

()o()o()

Mr. Jones tried the main door of the church but it was closed with a heavy chain. Fortunately, the priest was in the adjacent cemetery and came to their help.

Schultz was rather embarrassed; he had never seen Newkirk so drunk. The poor priest must have thought the worst of them. Even so, he opened his house next to the church and went to prepare some strong coffee to dissipate the dizziness.

The sergeant grabbed Newkirk by the back of his neck and sank his head in a basin of cold water. The Englishman flapped his arms trying to free himself from the grip. The sergeant pulled him up to let him breathe. He repeated the treatment two more times.

Newkirk did not fight all the pushing and tossing. He let himself sink on the bed and a towel fell over his head. He kept his eyes closed while a big hand dried his face vigorously. Then, he responded. "What's the idea? Blimey, Schultz, you almost drowned me in there!"

"Are you awake yet?" Schultz sat down in front of him to make sure that Newkirk could see his lips. He was expressionless but Newkirk felt his discontent. "You were dead drunk on the street, what happened?"

"You want the whole story? I don't think we have so much time."

"Well, we do. You don't seem in any condition to go anywhere anytime soon."

"It was madness, Schultz," Newkirk said in gasps. "First, that lightning bolt disintegrated those poor soldiers and then, this giant Cossack all dressed in white came from nowhere and attacked me. H-he froze me inside and Spike-"

"Say no more. I knew that it was not a good idea for you to come with that vampire." Schultz shook his head. He took the towel. "Look at your hands, Newkirk. Don't they hurt?"

Newkirk chuckled. "With everything happening at the same time? Who has time to know?"

Someone knocked on the door. It was a priest carrying a tray with a pitcher and a mug. "He looks better. I hope this will help." He gave the mug to Schultz. "There, he must drink it all fast."

Newkirk noticed something wrong. He could not point at it right away. Then, he gasped in terror and crawled back. "Who are you?" He yelled at the priest. "What do you want?"

"Newkirk, what is wrong? What is it, boy?"

"Schultz, I can hear him! I can hear him!"

"You got your hearing back? That's wonderful," the sergeant said with a smile. "Maybe it was the cold water-?"

"You don't get it!" Newkirk could not stop staring at the priest at the door. "I can't hear you but I can hear him. He's... he's... dead! Can't you see?"

Schultz's smile faded. Now he was really concerned. He tried to touch Newkirk's hand but he recoiled. "Newkirk, calm down."

"Stay away!" He stood up on the bed, looking for something he could use as a weapon. He found Schultz's crucifix in his inner pocket and aimed at the priest with it. "Don't you move, spawn from hell!" He warned him. "Not another bloody step!"

"Oh, my. I think he's getting worse." The priest left the tray on the table. "Maybe I should wait outside?"

"It will be better, Vater, I'll calm him down." Schultz tried his best smile and waited until the priest closed the door behind him. Then, he turned to Newkirk and gave him a killer gaze. "Don't get any ideas. You can't fight me." He stretched his hand and Newkirk surrendered the crucifix.

"Schultz, please. You've got to believe me!"

"I gave you my *Oma's crucifix for protection against evil, and you threatened a priest with it!" He looked menacing, just as Newkirk remembered him the time they put him in charge of the Stalag.* "Sit down! Get your boots off the sheets!"

"I-I'm sorry," he tried to soften his tone but he could barely control the tremors in his voice. "B-but he's evil-"

"Stop that, Newkirk! Enough!" Schultz sat down again. "I'll listen when you calm down. Now sit and drink this." He took the mug but Newkirk pushed it away. Schultz grabbed his wrist with a strength that Newkirk had never had the chance to test before. "Listen to me, boy. Colonel Hogan is missing. I've been looking for you because I think you're the only one who knows exactly what's going on. If you're in no condition to help me, we'll have to go back to Stalag Thirteen and find someone who can." His voice was strong but getting desperate. "I don't know what's going on with you now. But I'm over the edge here, Englander. Don't push me!"

Newkirk took a deep breath. "Y-you don't understand-"

"I only know that Colonel Hogan must be in mortal danger!" Schultz got the mug again. "Take this. It will clear your mind. Please. Then, I'll listen to you."

Newkirk took the drink and coughed. "What the bloody hell is that rubbish?"

"Watch your mouth, we're in a church" He hardened his expression on Newkirk as if he were talking to his own son. "It's coffee. Strong, black coffee. Are you awake now? No more crazy talk all right?"

Newkirk nodded. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his neck. "Got an aspirin?"

"That's your penance." Schultz shook his head. "Newkirk, why did you do it? You're supposed to be on a mission. How could you go and get drunk at a time like this?"

"What? That's what you think I did?" Newkirk widened his eyes. "Aren't you listening? Schultz! I was attacked by one of Baba Yaga's horsemen! Remember? You told me the story! Three big buggers with-" Newkirk got up as steadily as he could. He turned around. "Spike, where is he? H-he can tell you-"

Schultz held him still and pushed him back to bed. "He can't get in here. He's evil. You must stay in bed for a while. We'll talk later, all right?" He spread a blanket over him.

Newkirk shook his head. "No, Schultz, I've got to go on. There's no time to rest. That bloody priest is dead, Schultz. He's after t-"

"Stop it, Newkirk, please. You're delirious." He touched the young man's forehead. Instead of feverish, Newkirk's skin was ice-cold. "You're freezing!" He frowned and look for more blankets in the armoire.

"Delirious? How bloody delirious you've got to be to have people freezing you inside out or vampires getting you drunk or... or seeing ruddy dead priests walking around?"

Schultz grabbed him by the shoulders. "Newkirk, I believe you, all right? I'm here to help you. But, please calm down. No more crazy talk about dead priests, please."

Newkirk took a deep breath and nodded. He would not go anywhere trying to convince Schultz. He would have to try another approach. He would pretend that everything was all right.

"I'm sorry, Schultz. I went crackers for a moment. Just give me a few minutes, would you? I'll be all right." His breathing went down to normal levels and his thoughts cleared. He looked up at Schultz and frowned. "What did you say about Colonel Hogan?"

()o()o()

"...And then, Daddy Angelus left us stranded in that land of filthy gypsies. We were lucky to get out of there before they staked us all." Drusilla poured invisible tea in two invisible cups. "Of course, we didn't know that by then, he had just gotten his soul back." She stressed the word _soul_ with a grimace of disgust. "We went to China and my Spike killed his first Slayer."

"What's a Slayer?" Hogan asked, pretending to hold a cup of tea.

Drusilla's eyes glowed. She was about to give him an answer when her cards got her attention. She grinned. "Poor Captain Grunwald, he is not happy man."

"Who is Captain Grunwald?"

"The man who brought us here. He wants Koshchei to work for him. Poor thing...clearly not a happy man. Are you a happy man, Colonel?"

"I'm basically a happy man, Ma'am." He sat beside her. "Do you play cards?"

"They tell me stories." She withdrew one. "Oh, look, _ Ace of Swords, _that's you, Colonel... and this is Spike, the _Squire of Eternity..._ this other one is the _Enchanter of Delusion_."

Hogan stared at the tarot card in his hand. The situation was so uncanny that he found it too hard to believe. "So, this is the Enchanter of Delusion." Hogan smiled and shook his head. "No way."

"Way," Drusilla grinned.

"And you know his real name?"

"Phantom?"

Hogan laughed. "Oh, boy. Magic, pure and true. He said that your name was Josephine Delacroix... Are you French?"

"Was for a week and a day..." She smiled.

"But, wait a minute. If you know Newkirk, that means he has been here... How?"

"I call him, he comes," she shrugged.

"All the way from Hammelburg to Nuremberg?" Hogan was amazed and concerned at the same time. "On foot?"

"He was just here a few hours ago... with Spike." She giggled. "He was not happy at all."

"Newkirk?"

"And Spike..."

"Why?"

"Because we have been seeing each other secretly.." She winked.

"And why was Newkirk mad too?"

"Because we have been seeing each other secretly."

"Of course," Hogan said with a sigh.

"Oh," she said after drawing another card. "Danger is on his path!"

"Who's path?"

"Spike's"

"And Newkirk's?"

"Too." She put another card on the table. "Forces of darkness are coming to get him!"

"Get who?"

"Spike!"

"And Newkirk?"

"Too."

Hogan was on the edge of insanity with this conversation. He could see himself grabbing all those cards, shredding them to pieces and eating them all up. "Drusilla, dear, couldn't you tell me what the cards say about Newkirk," he said and immediately added, "and Spike?"

Drusilla closed her eyes and moved her head from side to side. "Listen to the children of the night... What beautiful music they make..." She began to spin throughout the room. "What a beautiful song I've got in my head... Let's dance, Colonel Hogan, let's dance whilst it lasts..."

Hogan looked at the young woman with more pity than anything else. If the story was right, she had been dead for over eighty years. Of course the easiest part to believe was the one about her sanity. And even so, her charm was enough to overlook her antics. Suddenly, she fell down to the floor. She screamed and clenched her hands over her ears.

"No, no... Danger! He's not safe, he's not safe...!"

Hogan remained seated. He knew she was seeing something and he wondered if she was talking about Newkirk..., Spike..., or both...

()o()o()

The table was served. Although an example of austerity, dinner looked inviting. Schultz was grateful for having found such a kind priest. He had to notice that the man was not eating or drinking at all.

"I never drink... wine... " the priest said. "It gives me heartburn at night."

"Oh, yes. Of course," Mr. Jones smiled. "I'm not used to these European customs myself."

"I couldn't live without my cup of wine with my dinner." Schultz laughed. He was trying to relax after his disturbing conversation with Newkirk. He only hoped for the corporal to come to his senses and join them. "I must apologize for what happened before. Corporal Newkirk is usually very nice and well mannered."

"Those are the kind of things I tried to warn Colonel Hogan about." Mr. Jones shook his head. "I hope it's not too late to help him."

Schultz would not ask what he was talking about. He had a good idea, but did not want to know more than that. The less he knew, the farther he would be from the Russian Front.

"No need to apologize, we are living in difficult times. It is harder on the young." The priest smiled widely when he saw Newkirk coming in. "My young man, I'm glad you decided to join us."

Newkirk walked slowly, fighting the hangover effects and a natural fear of the unknown. He could see that Schultz was not pleased with his behavior and momentarily, his glares reminded Newkirk of his father's. Schultz looked really disappointed in him.

"Are you feeling better, my son?" The priest asked from the other end of the table.

_Act normal. Act normal, whatever rubbish that might mean, _Newkirk thought. "Much better, thank you." His smile froze in his mouth while he took a seat.

"You better be," Schultz mumbled.

"Perhaps you need to rest. You may stay till tomorrow if you like. There is plenty of room in here. This is not a good night for a stroll, anyway."

"You're very nice, but there's-," Newkirk felt a kick on his shin; just another father-like moment from Schultz.

"We'll talk about that later." The sergeant was really serious now.

The priest nodded. "We'll start our supper as soon as the plumber comes up. He's washing himself. I hope you don't mind that I invited him too. There was a flood in the basement and he came immediately. So nice of him."

"Remarkable." Mr. Jones smiled. "House calls at this hour and in war times."

"Yes, those RAF raids." He laughed quietly. "One bomb fell down very near and caused damage to the structure. You're from England, Mr. Newkirk, aren't you?"

"Why, yes. Corporal. POW," he shrugged.

"Were you escaping?" The priest laughed. "I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. I'm terribly curious."

"It's all right," Schultz said. "Newkirk gets a little restless and once in a while, he makes us run for our money."

They laughed, except for Newkirk. He tried to have a glass of water or something to eat, but his hands shook too much. Every word coming from the priest reverberated in his head. If he could hear him, that man had to be dead. _Dead, dead, dead!_ If the situation was bad now, he dreaded the moment when it would get worse.

"S-so," said Newkirk clearing his throat. "How long have you been living in this house?"

"Almost thirty years. I worked in the church next door but now it's closed. The bombardments damaged the structure and it'll take time to repair."

"What a shame," Schultz said with concern. "War doesn't respect anything."

"You should see the cemetery. It's terrible what happened there. We've been reburying people all week long."

"That's sounds awful," Mr. Jones almost crossed himself.

_Dead, dead, dead! That bloody priest is dead! _Newkirk tried to put his mind on something else. Listening to this man, the only voice he could hear in the room, was creepy enough. Now, they were talking about open tombs in the cemetery next door. He wondered where Spike could be and if he could help him.

Then, the plumber came in. A tall man, very pale, reddish hair... Newkirk's heart beat fast.

"Ah, did you finish, Herr Rötlich?" The priest offered him a seat at the table.

"Certainly, it was not that bad."

His voice hit Newkirk right on his guts. He felt dizzy and on the verge of a scream. He sprung up.

"Newkirk!" Schultz tried to stop him.

"I- I need a cigarette... I'll go outside." He was the first one surprised at how smoothly his words came out. He did not remember if he asked or waited to be excused. All he could do was count his steps to the door. He was about to touch the doorknob when a gust of warm wind hit him from behind and crushed him against the door. The impact took all his breath away and he fell down on his knees. All the locks on the door closed by themselves.

Newkirk turned slowly and sat with his back against the door. The _plumber_ walked towards him; a big red sword began to form out of thin air in his right hand.

"Now, let me guess," Newkirk gasped. "Red Sun, I suppose?"

tbc

* * *

***_Oma _**_grandmother_

*_**Kommandant Schultz **season 6 episode 7_

_Thanks for reading ;)_


	22. The labor we delight in physics pain

_**22. The labor we delight in physics pain. **_

"He's dead! He's dead!" Drusilla knelt down on the floor with her head clenched in her hands while she rocked back and forth. "Hush little baby... The sword, the sword..."

Hogan crouched next to her, listening to her whispers. "Is it Newkirk? Drusilla, is Newkirk in danger?"

"They... they come one after the other... one by one... they want to stop him... one by one..."

"We can help them, Drusilla. We can help Spike and Newkirk, but we need to get out of here."

Drusilla began to regain control. She sat back on her heels and giggled. "No exit, they say... But they haven't noticed the crack in the mirror..."

Hogan stared at Drusilla. The vampire was very quiet all of a sudden. He put some distance between them. His only hope was that this would not be the way vampires prepared to attack.

()o()o()

_What a way to start the night_, Spike thought. He could have gone back to the castle right after the museum fiasco. Instead, he had let this youngster convince him to come along on a scavenger's hunt. As if he did not have enough problems already. All for nothing since that sergeant had just closed the door of the priest's house on his nose. Now, there was nothing else for him to do but stroll on the cemetery. The only good thing was that the oversized sergeant had left his rifle leaning on the wall outside. He would be surprised to see who had it now.

The place was a wreck. The last raid had cracked open tombstones and some mausoleums. Spike decided to take advantage of his exile and check the family crypts. Sometimes, he found interesting things that were still usable or valuable for a trade. He put the rifle on his shoulder and started to walk.

"That's what you get for being nice. For playing by the rules." He pointed at the priest's house with the weapon. "You know what? Sod the rules! The lone wolf is back on the prowl. I don't need any little wanker coming from the East End to tell me wher-" His sentence was cut short when he fell down in an open grave. "Bloody hell!" He stood up and looked around. The place was rather spacious and connected to a mausoleum by a small entrance.

Spike walked inside, reading the names. He looked for the most notable families and found a threshold with the Eichenholz family name on top. It led to another room downstairs. He went down the stairs.

Spike could see through the dark that the place was full of ornaments. There were murals of biblical scenes on the walls and candles everywhere. He also noticed another door at the opposite side. It was not locked, and behind it there were more stairs, going up this time. He followed them and entered the church. The door at the top of the stairs headed directly to the altar. Spike chuckled. He was inside the church but he did not feel threatened. There was only one explanation for that. The place was no longer consecrated.

He walked around. It had been so long since he was allowed to step inside a church. Old memories came to mind. Mother taking little William by the hand, teaching him how to cross himself, how to kneel down... how to pray. Spike shook his head. Those thoughts were nothing but smoke. He was not there to brood about his unholy condition. He loved being a vampire. Nothing would make him regret that at all.

He heard a noise behind yet another door. This one was a modest exit into what he guessed was the priest's house. He came closer and chuckled.

"Someone must be having a party over there."

()o()o()

Newkirk kept his eyes on the sword. Maybe it was the light of the candles, but sometimes, the blade looked red and in flames. He did not want to think what that thing could do to human flesh. Red Sun stared at him with fiery eyes and ran towards him. He raised the sword with both hands and dropped a vertical blow.

Newkirk rolled over and crawled towards a corner. Schultz sprang up instinctively looking for his rifle. He remembered that he had left it at the door to show respect for the holy place. Mr. Jones was on his feet too and ready to run away.

"What's going on here?" Schultz asked. "Who's that man?"

"Take cover!" Newkirk could barely talk while dodging the sword. "Blimey, Schultz, get out of here now!" He crawled and then, ran to one door adjacent to the church. He did not have a real plan, his biggest concern was to keep the red giant away from Schultz and Mr. Jones. As he suspected, the door was locked.

Red Sun walked in his direction. He did not seem in a hurry, as though he had all the time in the world. Newkirk rolled over to put some distance between the giant and the door. Then, he ran back to the door and put a pick in the lock before going to the other side. Every time he came closer, he would rotate the pick as much as he could. He hoped to open the door in two or three movements at most, provided the pick did not break inside the lock. It did not.

Schultz saw him going through the door into the church. Mr. Jones turned to the priest to demand explanations about this stranger attacking so indiscriminately. But there was no one there. Mr. Jones followed Schultz into the church.

Spike watched Newkirk run in with a red giant after him. The vampire laughed.

"By the love of-" he said when Newkirk passed in front of him. "Where did you find Red Sun?"

"What?" Newkirk was getting out of breath. "He followed me here!" He plunged behind some chairs before the giant struck the ground with his sword.

Spike shook his head and climbed up a column to the second deck. He sat on the railing for a better view.

Schultz entered to see Newkirk rolling over the floor, ducking the flaming sword as best he could. The Englishman was in a bad position. He was still running around but he would not be able to do that for much longer. Schultz feared he would stumble on the chairs scattered on the central nave; one little chance for the red giant to get closer and that would be all for Newkirk. The sergeant looked for something that might help the Englishman. The church was wide and old, with big columns of stone,and a massive chandelier in the middle of the ceiling above the nave. There were also statues representing the saints in each corner of the building. But the most significant had to be the archangel Saint Michael on the right side of the altar. One thing got Schultz's attention.

Mr. Jones saw the sergeant at the altar and Newkirk on the ground, crawling his way out of the range of the sword. He did not want to be left behind and went after Schultz.

"What are you looking for?" he asked Schultz.

"The angel," said Schultz. "It has a sword." He knew that it was physically impossible for him to climb and get the weapon. Before he could ask for help, Mr. Jones was already on his way up.

In the meantime, Newkirk had succeeded in keeping the giant away. But his lucky strike was fading quickly.

"I told you, this was not a good night for a stroll."

Schultz turned around. The priest was right behind him. There was something wrong with his face, all pale and deformed, with yellow eyes and long fangs. "Vampir!" The sergeant screamed.

()o()o()

Drusilla paced around the cell, her arms crossed on her chest, her eyes lowered to the ground.

"Sight sorry a say to thought foolish a...," she whispered. "Pictures as but are dead the and sleeping the..."

Hogan felt on the verge of a stroke with this woman. The last hour, she had done nothing else but recite Lady Macbeth's lines backwards. He used to live in a world of logic and rational thinking. All of a sudden, he was sharing a cell with a vampire who happened to be crazy.

Drusilla stopped in the middle of the room and giggled. "Coming is someone."

Two corporals came to the cell. To judge by their fallen faces, they were disappointed.

"Look, Hans, he's still alive."

"I don't know, Fritz. I told you she was acting weird."

"Hey, Fraulein, aren't you hungry this evening?" Fritz asked. "You miss Ihre Liebste?_ your sweetheart?_"

Drusilla looked at them and smiled. "I rather play with my tin soldiers." She came to the door. Her gaze was fastened on them. "Now, my little boys. Would you open this door for me? Come and play in my garden."

Hogan did not even dare to breathe hard. Although the vampire was fascinating, she could be lethally unpredictable. He stayed in his place but ready to move if she turned towards him.

Hans opened the door. He did not know why, there was no logical reason for what he was doing. However, there was nothing else he would rather do than open the door and step inside the cell. Fritz wanted to protest, pull Hans towards him and run away. But he was also drawn inside.

Drusilla kept her gaze on them. She had them both in front of her. She tilted her head and began to rock from side to side in a way that reminded Hogan of the dance of a cobra about to strike. Very slowly, she raised one hand, curving her fingers, and in a quick movement, she slashed Fritz's throat open with her fingernails. Immediately, she turned to Hans and bit him on the neck.

The macabre spectacle did not last long. However, Hogan knew that those images would be haunting him for months to come. Drusilla turned to him, still wearing her game face. But in a matter of seconds, her eyes turned dark brown again. Her expression changed back to the innocent girl playing with invisible toys and she smiled mischievously. "Well, well, I think our guests are ready to leave," she said picking up her tarot cards to put them in her velvet bag.

"I though you were under a spell in here." Hogan frowned suspiciously.

Drusilla smiled. "I was when we got here. But the roses are dying and the talismans are fading. They didn't know that those are temporary remedies," she shrugged.

"But why didn't you try to leave earlier?"

"Silly, how would the Enchanter of Delusion find me if I wasn't here?" She headed for the door.

Hogan followed her from a distance. He took care of picking up one of the weapons from the bodies on the floor. There were no guards nearby, but he could feel danger in the air. On the other hand, Drusilla walked carelessly, humming and dancing. At one point, she stopped.

One man in uniform came towards them. He was alone and when he was close enough he raised his hands. He showed Hogan that his gun was still in his belt. "You don't want to shoot me now, where everybody can hear you." He turned to Drusilla and smiled. "Leaving us so soon, meine Liebe? _my love?_"

"Captain Grunwald," she whispered his name.

"You've been the one keeping this creature in here? Feeding her with innocent people?" Hogan frowned and kept his pistol aimed towards him.

"And who are you? She didn't touch you at all?" If Grunwald was upset, it did not show.

"Colonel Hogan has been keeping me company, but I told him that it's time to go. Spike needs me." Drusilla smiled.

"Colonel Hogan? What army?"

"Guess," Hogan grinned.

The captain laughed. "Just my luck! Of all the people in this city, my men had to bring an American colonel." He shook his head. "And where are those idiots, anyway."

Hogan sighed. "Guess again."

Grunwald nodded in silence. "Oh, well. They were not of my best. Shall we?" He turned to the hallway. "I'm your prisoner. I'll grant you safe passage."

"You grant us a free pass?" Hogan looked wary. "What is you plan, pal?"

Grunwald smiled coldly. He was playing the last of his game. It was about time to show his superiors that he was right. "I just want to see it. I need to know that it's real." He shrugged. "Without me, you won't make it to the main door. She might be strong and fast, but you're just a man. You'll be dead before she can help you."

"I could help you now." Drusilla turned to Hogan with her mischievous smile. "Two vampires would be invincible."

Hogan shuddered. "Thank you, no, ma'am. I'd rather take the hostage. Start walking, Grunwald. Try anything funny and we'll see who is faster, your men or me."

()o()o()

Although it looked so at first, this church did not feel that big anymore. Newkirk kept running in circles, through the aisles, between the pews, behind the altar. Red Sun seemed to be everywhere.

"Don't you ever get tired?" he shouted at the giant. "Blimey! Why can't we sit and talk? This is maddening!"

"They don't get tired because they're not human," Spike said from the pulpit above Newkirk's head. "He'll still be running after your heart stops from exhaustion."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Shouldn't you be down here helping me out?" Newkirk stopped behind a column.

"Er- They call him Red Sun. That's not compatible with my kind," he shrugged.

The giant swung his sword and broke a chair to splinters. Newkirk gasped and took shelter behind a column. "I dislike you, Spike. I do dislike you!"

"That's the joy of being undead. Few things really get you." He lit a cigarette. A scream from the other side of the church made him turn his head. He laughed. "Case in point."

Newkirk also turned. Schultz was barely keeping the former priest, now a full vampire, away from him and Mr. Jones. The inspector rested for a second before climbing up the last half of Saint Michael's pedestal. The sergeant did his best running around, throwing anything he found in the vampire's path.

"Blimey, Schultz! I told him to get out of here!" Newkirk jumped over a pew and then rolled. But Red Sun was already on his way. "Spike!" He screamed stepping backwards. "You've got to get involved sooner or later, mate!"

"Sorry, I'm still deciding whether I don't care or it's not my business."

Newkirk could not reply. Red Sun was too close. He knew this was danger zone and the next movement could only bring pain.

Schultz turned from the pedestal to find the priest right in front of him. He glanced at the vampire's fist, ready to punch him on the nose. He had no time for ducking or hiding, so he closed his eyes. The blow made noise when it landed but the sergeant did not feel it.

He stepped back and opened his eyes. Spike was between him and the priest. He took the punch and retaliated. There was something odd in the way these vampires fought. Schultz had never seen blows and kicks coming and going so fast and intentionally. Their strength was uncanny. They could send each other against walls and chairs without breaking a sweat. They would stand up or bounce to their feet so gracefully, that it looked like a choreography.

Newkirk was at the other end of the place and had only a few seconds to turn and check on Schultz. The sight of the vampires fighting would have mesmerized him if it were not because there still was a red giant in the middle of the church, looking forward to breaking Newkirk's neck.

Schultz did not let the vampire scare stop him. He had helped Mr. Jones to climb up the pedestal of Saint Michael to fetch the sword. The sergeant kept a grip on the man's ankle for stability but his eyes were on Newkirk.

"Please, Mr. Jones, could you hurry up?"

"I almost have it." Mr. Jones stretched his arms the last centimeters and touched the sword. He had to wrestle against years of rust and dust but finally, the weapon was his. "Are you sure that the corporal can handle it? It's a little heavy."

"He's very resourceful, Mr. Jones. If there is someone at Stalag XIII that knows how to handle a broadsword, it must be Newkirk."

Mr. Jones was surprised to hear such a vote of confidence coming from a German soldier. He gave him the sword. "Wait," he said. "Take this too." With some difficulty, he lifted the archangel's beautiful shield and handed it to Schultz. "Good luck."

The sergeant smiled. He took the sword in his right hand and placed the shield on his left arm. For a moment, he remembered his childhood years when he used to play gladiators with his cousins. He still knew how to put the shield in front and the sword to one side... Suddenly, the priest came to clash on his shield. The impact almost took his breath away. Schultz looked at Spike.

"Sorry, mate. You were on the way."

The British vampire was at the top of his energy, with his game face on. The only thing that caught Schultz's attention were the shiny long fangs smiling at him. He turned to one side and saw the other vampire, game face and all, jumping back to his feet, ready to attack. Instinctively, Schultz took the sword and stabbed him in the chest. He retrieved the weapon, but the vampire did not seem to care much about the pain.

"Was ist los? Why doesn't he die?"*

"The head, you twit! Cut his bloody head off!" Spike ran towards him and pushed the priest forward.

In an impulse of despair, Schultz brandished the sword against the neck of the vampire. The weight of the weapon carried enough force to sever his head. Schultz wanted to close his eyes, anticipating a bloody mess. But instead, he saw the body crumble to ashes in a matter of seconds. He was still shaking when Spike came closer. "What happened?"

"Congratulations, big guy, you just killed your first vampire." Spike wiped the blood of his nose. "That wanker broke my nose." He looked at the sergeant staring at him. "What?"

"You took that blow for me, thank you." Schultz began to see Spike in a new light.

"That's what you think that happened? I was only passing by." Spike shuddered with awkwardness. He pointed at the shield. "Is that for the cockney?" He took it.

"And the sword?"

"Only if you want him to burst in flames," Spike smiled mischievously.

Mr. Jones descended from the pedestal and sat next to Schultz. "That was so intense. I'm going to write that down."

Schultz did not pay attention to him. He was too busy staring at the pile of dust on the floor at his feet. He shook his head. "My wife will never believe me."

tbc

* * *

*_In Buffyverse, vampires can only be killed with a wooden pointed object through their heart, by exposing them directly to sunlight or cutting their head off._

_See you soon..._

_Read and review if you please :)  
_


	23. I will not be afraid of death

_Shall I warn you about a **main character's death**? All right, consider yourself warned :)_

* * *

_**23. I will not be afraid of death.**_

Spike took the shield and ran towards Newkirk. "Here! Use this," he shrugged, "not much of a protection. He'll finish you in a couple of minutes, anyway." Then he looked over Newkirk's shoulder and chuckled. "Someone's coming for you."

Newkirk turned around. Red Sun was coming. His intent gaze locked on Newkirk's and for a second, he could not move. He reacted at the last minute by placing the shield in front of him. The giant raised the sword with the intention of breaking the shield, along with Newkirk's arm. The Englishman stepped back and ducked. The flaming sword grazed the shield, leaving a trail of sparks. Newkirk felt the impact like volts of electricity shooting up his arm. He screamed but did not let go the shield.

Red Sun remained immutable.

"C'mon, _Little Red Riding Hood, _can't we talk as civilized gentlemen?" Newkirk stepped back.

"Careful with that thing. One stroke of that sword and you'll burst in flames!" The acoustics in the church carried Spike's voice everywhere.

"Should I be surprised? I think not!" Newkirk widened his eyes. Red Sun was already after him, his sword lifted over Newkirk's head. The Englishman looked up at it and screamed. "Bloody hell!"

Spike was back on the second deck. He took Schultz's rifle and shot at the giant. Nothing happened. Schultz was hiding in one of the confessionals and sighed as his weapon clicked.

"Hey! What's the idea, sonny? No bullets?" Spike yelled at him.

"It's never loaded," Schultz whispered to Mr. Jones on the other side of the booth.

The inspector would have liked to write that down on his notebook as an interesting detail. But with all the commotion, he did not dare to move.

()o()o()

Newkirk ran upstairs to the choir stalls and found the giant already there. Instinctively, he raised the shield against Red Sun's sword. More electric shocks, more pain, he staggered and charged again. Each stroke of the sword on his shield sent pain through his own nerves but he did not yield. His determination paid at last when the red giant stumbled and almost fell to one side. Newkirk was too exhausted to think of doing anything else but lean against the wall and wait for Red Sun's last blow. Spike came from behind, yelling and running. He held the rifle like a spear and hit the giant on the back. Before he could recover, Spike struck again, the neck this time, and the giant fell face down to the floor.

"You don't want to be near when he wakes up." Spike put his arm around Newkirk's waist, lifted him and jumped down to the ground floor.

Newkirk was still a little groggy by the electric shocks and the flying. He stared at Spike and frowned. "Why did you help me?"

Spike shrugged. "I'm still a bit drunk, I guess." He brushed his hair and shook his head.

"If that's what it takes, the next bottle is on me, mate," Newkirk said without noticing that the vampire was not longer paying attention.

Spike turned his head to the door. "Drusilla?" he whispered. Immediately after that, the massive chain on the other side of the door clattered to the floor. The doors opened and the lady vampire glided in, followed by Captain Grunwald and Hogan. She smiled when Spike came slowly towards her and held out his arm.

The group was still recovering from the surprise of being all together again when Red Sun jumped down from the second deck to land in front of Newkirk. Hogan saw this big man all dressed in red take off his glove and touch Newkirk on the chest with his open hand. Without more time to react, the colonel aimed his gun. He was still too far to make a safe shot, so he fired at the chandelier above.

"Newkirk! Duck!"

"Can't hear you!" Spike yelled as he ran towards them. In a single motion, he grabbed Newkirk and rolled over the floor away from Red Sun. The shot came one second later and the chandelier fell over the giant.

Hogan rushed to check on Newkirk. He and Spike lifted him off the floor. "Are you all right?"

"Breathless, sir," Newkirk smiled.

"That makes two of us. But I'm used to it," Spike dusted his uniform. He turned to see Drusilla walking towards them.

"My knight in shining armor," she said walking past Spike and straight to Newkirk. She put her arms around the corporal's neck and kissed him on the lips.

"Son of a b-!" Spike's jaw dropped when Newkirk stopped struggling and returned the kiss. Hogan came to stand next to the vampire and grinned. "I suppose they know each other?" He went to the site of the crash. He looked among the chattered glass but found nothing. "Where is he? I know I shot someone here."

"He's gone. Red Sun never stays long for introductions," Spike shrugged, before going back to Drusilla and Newkirk. "Enough! Back off, you two." He grabbed his girlfriend. "Stay away from her!"

"What? She's the one that keeps coming on to me, ye nitwit!" Newkirk pushed Spike with one finger.

"That's it, mate. Truce is over." Spike began to roll up his sleeves. "Prepare to get your pathetic ass kicked back to England!"

"News for you, pal. You're not the first bully I've wasted!" Newkirk was getting ready for a showdown when Hogan came closer.

"Corporal! Street fights are banned for men in uniform." Hogan stared at Spike, dressed as an officer. "That goes for you too, I guess." He grabbed Newkirk and pulled him aside.

Captain Grunwald looked around and walked to the altar. "I know this place."

Mr. Jones saw the German and frowned. "Colonel Hogan! This is highly irregular! What is that man doing here?"

"Not now, Mr. Jones," Hogan said as he followed the captain. "Grunwald, you'd better remember that you're my prisoner now."

Schultz came out of his hiding place. "Are you all right, Colonel? I've been looking all over for you." He stared at Captain Grunwald and stood to attention.

Grunwald smirked. "As you were, Sergeant. This is not an official visit. In fact, I think I'm his prisoner." He pointed at Hogan.

"You must forget this man, Schultz," Hogan said aiming at Grunwald with his gun. "I mean it."

Schultz nodded hesitantly. Throughout the years, he had learned to respect Hogan's procedures and decisions. He found that was the healthiest way to survive this endless war.

Newkirk came back to his senses. Hogan had returned and he could not be happier. "Gov'nor, it's good to see you well, Schultz said that-"

"It's okay, Corporal. It turned out to be a great outing after all. Schultz," he grinned, "nice work tracking our Englander."

"Oh, he moves fast but I've been trained." Schultz laughed.

Captain Grunwald looked at Newkirk and then, at Spike. "I infer my men are dead."

"Ain't that a shame, sir?"Newkirk shrugged.

"They opened the wrong box." Spike smirked, holding Drusilla closer.

Hogan took a better look at Newkirk. The sight was disturbing. His corporal was pale and sweaty, with numerous blisters in his hands. "Good Lord, Newkirk, but where have you been?"

"Everywhere. Things kept happening so fast." He could not hide his relief to see Hogan again. "I found the safe box. Not an easy task to do. But it was empty, except for a couple of booby traps and this diary. You might like to have it." He gave it to Hogan, who put it in his pocket.

"Good, I'll read it later. Let's go back to the manor. You need serious rest, Corporal."

"What are we going to do with him?" Newkirk pointed at the captain.

"He has contaminated our entire operation, Colonel." Mr. Jones came closer. "I trust you to do the right thing."

"You want me to give him the treatment?" Spike grinned.

"Me too! Me too!" Drusilla clapped with excitement.

"Colonel, no," Newkirk gasped, suddenly exhausted. He turned to Spike. "You're not disposing of anybody while we're around. You hear me, bloody blood suckers."

"It's okay, Newkirk." Hogan turned to Grunwald. "The last word is mine, but I'll keep in mind the vampire's offer."

"I'll be around." Spike saluted Hogan and winked.

Grunwald did not show any emotion. He was trained to keep his emotions under control. He would not lose his composure in front of the enemy, or a vampire.

Indifferent to the world, Drusilla detached herself from the group and walked towards the altar. "What is that? Look how it shines!"

Schultz stared at her. "Is she all right?"

"That's a good question, Schultz," Hogan told him. "I've been wondering that myself all day long."

Mr. Jones kept taking notes. He walked around as though looking for vocabulary to describe the place and actions. He too, went closer to the altar.

Newkirk kept one hand over his chest. Hogan stared at him for a moment. His face had lost color and he looked on the verge of collapsing. "Newkirk, are you sure you're all right?"

"Just a little shaky. This has been an upside down adventure all day long." He straightened up and every muscle protested. Hogan steadied him.

Captain Grunwald took advantage of Hogan's distraction to go closer to the altar.

Newkirk took a deep breath and frowned. "What's up there that everybody is so interested?" Another wince of pain twisted his features. Hogan grabbed his arm.

"This is not good, what's coming over you?" He was really concerned now.

Spike came closer. Just one glance and he chuckled. "Red Sun touched you, didn't he?"

"Oh, no... he also has a gift, doesn't he?" Newkirk sighed. "And what would it be?"

"Gift? What is he talking about?" Hogan had begun to hate being out of the loop.

Before Spike could answer him, the piercing sound of sirens alerted them to the present danger. Newkirk saw Schultz covering his ears and Hogan looking around in alarm.

"What is it? What's going on?" Without his hearing, he felt so useless.

"Air raid!" Hogan shouted. He pulled Newkirk under a pillar. Pieces of plaster began to fall around. "Newkirk, this place ain't going to last. You take Schultz, I'll go for Mr. Jones!"

"Mmm, they're playing our song, Spike," Drusilla said from the altar. She began to dance.

"Gov'nor!" Newkirk pointed at Mr. Jones at the rear of the church. The man was seeking refuge under the altar.

Spike ran towards Drusilla but a blast shook the ground and a column crumbled down right in front of him. He jumped and dodged as long as he could but the last fragment was too heavy. Newkirk saw him disappear under heavy pieces of concrete. He stared at the chaos. The silence was more overwhelming than if he could hear the world falling apart around him.

Hogan got to the altar at the last minute. The walls were tumbling down. Grunwald and Mr. Jones were gone. Drusilla stood still in the middle of everything. She stretched her hand to take Hogan's. Newkirk saw her lips moving but he could not read them because of the clouds of dust. The last thing he saw was Hogan falling behind the altar. He yelled his name and began to run but the tremors in the old building made him lose his balance. Impossible to get closer.

He suddenly remembered Schultz. The poor man must be terrified. Newkirk went back and looked around. The sergeant was still on his feet, struggling to come closer. Newkirk grabbed his arm.

"Let's go! We've got to get out of here!"

Schultz nodded and both had to jump the last steps on their way out. Newkirk made sure that the sergeant was all right and back on his feet before turning to the church. Schultz clenched his arm.

"Nein!"

"The colonel!" Newkirk screamed. "Schultz, I've got to-"

"It's over, son!" Schultz yelled above the noise. "He's gone."

"No! He's still there! Schultz please," Newkirk struggled to free himself but the more he tried the less energy he had. His legs no longer supported him. Another blast brought down the main door. Newkirk felt his strength leave him completely. He fell down on his knees.

Schultz sat down with him against his chest. He could feel him trembling under his arms. "It's going to be all right, Englander. It's going to be all right."

Newkirk could not cry or scream. He felt Schultz behind him but he could not hear him. He was alone in his world of silence. He had been scared before, but ghosts and witches did not compare to the loss of a friend. Hogan was gone; nothing could be more painful than that.

tbc

* * *

_Don't despair, chapter 24 is coming right soon (after reading and reviewing ;) )_

_There are only four chapters left. Thank you for keeping the story in your alerts.  
_


	24. The roughest day

_**24. And the hour runs through the roughest day**_

Countess Elizabeth took the coffee tray from her maid and she personally passed around the cups. The day was just starting, but things were all going bad already. Of the group of four, only Schultz and Newkirk had come back. She took them into the library, the warmer room in the house. She sat patiently until the sergeant gathered strength to tell her their ordeal. Newkirk stayed by the fireplace, unable to take part in the conversation. He did not even bother to look at them to read their lips. His eyes were fixed on the flames and the whimsical figures their shadows made on the carpet.

"What are you going to do now?" Countess Elizabeth asked Schultz.

"Go back to camp, I suppose." The sergeant sighed deeply. "I still don't know how the kommandant will take the news, he'll go crazy." He rubbed his forehead with one hand and turned to Newkirk. "Are you going to take your tea?" He immediately remembered that he could not hear him.

Newkirk felt a hand on his shoulder and he started. He moaned as he turned. "D-don't touch me!" He stumbled and had to seek the wall to keep his balance.

"Are you all right?" Schultz could see the color fading quickly from the corporal's face. He had to rush to catch him before he fell on the floor.

The following hours were excruciating for the sergeant. Newkirk's temperature began to rise fast, sending him into episodes of hallucinations or total unconsciousness. Schultz sat beside him, sponging his face with cold water. Newkirk screamed; he called Hogan as he replayed the accident in his mind. When he opened his eyes, he screamed in pain.

"Don't touch me!" He crawled up on the bed, away from Schultz.

"I won't, I won't." He sat back on the chair. "Talk to me, Newkirk. What do you feel?" His voice was saddened. He understood what he must be going through. Hogan and his men were so close, like a family. Losing Colonel Hogan should be devastating. Even he felt like he had lost a close friend.

Newkirk shook his head. He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fists. "It hurts... I feel like burning up inside... Hurts!"

Minutes passed and Newkirk was asleep again. He rolled his head on the pillow, mumbling and moaning. He opened his eyes and everything was dark. He tried to think but his mind had gone blank. He tried to move and excruciating pain invaded every inch of his body. He remembered the explosion, the building falling on them. Seconds later, it was over. He woke up with a scream.

"Colonel?"

Schultz came running into the room. He turned on the lamp on the table and found Newkirk sitting up in the bed, with his eyes fixed in the darkness. The corporal's condition had begun to deteriorate.

Schultz kept trying to reach him one more time. "Newkirk," he said touching the corporal's hand.

Newkirk jumped as though hit by a bolt of lighting. "Don't! It hurts! It hurts!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Schultz stared at him. He was getting desperate, trying to find a way to help him. This young corporal, along with Carter, LeBeau and Kinch were more than friends to him. They were like his own sons, what happened to them would affect him too. Nothing troubled him more than seeing Newkirk in so much pain. "Newkirk, please, can't you talk to me?"

The Englishman lied down again. He kept his eyes closed as though deliberately avoiding Schultz. "It hurts so much... It hurts so much!"

Schultz could not do anything else but leave him alone.

"Isn't he improving at all?" Countess Elizabeth asked the sergeant when he came out. "I hope you don't mind. I called one of my physicians. He'll be here in no time."

"Oh, that's wonderful, thank you. I don't know what else to do. He has taken this tragedy too hard." Schultz managed to smile politely. Deep inside, he was completely drained. "I have to prepare our things to go back to camp now."

"You might rest, Sergeant. Stay for today. I assure you that Corporal Newkirk is in good hands."

()o()o()

Darkness was his friend now. He could not see a thing. If he could not see, he did not have to talk. Talking hurt... Thinking hurt... There were times when he wanted to scream, to throw out all that pain. But he was too tired, too bloody tired.

What were they thinking, snatching him from the Stalag just like that? They had threatened him with his own life and his friends' lives only to engage him in this task from hell... Who did they think he was anyway? What a bloody thief he had proven to be. Nobody told him it would be like this... He felt used. He felt betrayed... He felt guilty...

Poor Colonel Hogan, he would never know why he had actually died... But, whose fault was it anyway? Why did he feel so badly about it? Why did he wish to die before having to tell Kinch, Carter and LeBeau that their beloved commander and friend had died? What a waste... what a senseless, stupid waste...

Newkirk shuddered but did not cry. He was alone, in the dark but he could not cry. He sat back against the headboard. The room was too big. When his eyes got used to the darkness, shadows began to dance around him. "No more ghosts... no more ghosts, please..."

His mind drifted back to Hogan... Did he know he was going to die? At the end... was he scared? It had not been a day since they left the camp... No one knew he was not coming back...

Did it hurt, Gov'nor? Did dying actually hurt?...

He wanted to cry... he made fists with his hands hoping for the pain to bring out some tears. He felt a thousand pins and needles piercing his skin. He might have screamed but he could not hear it. He could not shed a tear... He did not know he was awake until the lights went on and Schultz came back to his side.

Schultz walked in slowly with a bowl of soup in his hand. Newkirk was still sitting at the top of his bed, his back against the wall. He trembled when the sergeant came to sit on a chair nearby. At least, the young man looked more awake now.

"Don't touch me!" Newkirk warned him in a whisper.

"I won't. Just let me stay here for a moment, all right?" His voice matched the pain in his heart. He could not stand so much suffering. "Here, you haven't eaten yet." He showed him the bowl and offered him a spoon.

Newkirk leaned back. "I ain't hungry."

"I think you are. Just try it once. It's delicious."

"Not bloody hungry!" he pushed the bowl. Fortunately, Schultz had anticipated something like that and saved the soup before it spilled on the floor. Newkirk closed his eyes. "Go away!"

Schultz tapped on the bed and Newkirk opened his eyes again. "You need to eat something. I'll go away as soon as you do that. Don't challenge me, Englander. I've been a Vater much longer than you've been a son."

Newkirk smirked. "Can't hold the spoon."

Schultz took the bowl and got closer. He filled the spoon and smiled. "What do you like, the plane or the chou-chou train?"

Newkirk gave a snort of laughter. It sent painful waves all over his body. He hugged himself and sighed. "I'm in the RAF, remember?"

Schultz fed him two spoonfuls. He had prepared the third when he saw the corporal staring at him. "What is it, Newkirk?"

"I'm sorry," Newkirk said.

"What for?"

"I've been so much trouble."

"Newkirk, you've never been trouble."

"Liar," he half smiled.

Schultz breathed deeply and nodded. He had made Newkirk smile. "Well, you are a little mischievous, ja. But we are used to it." He looked at the corporal, pensive again. He let the bowl on the table and lowered his voice. "Do you want to cry?"

"Can't," Newkirk whispered.

Schultz leaned forward to make sure Newkirk did not miss a word. "Listen, Newkirk. I'm much older than you and I've lost more friends than you. I know that crying helps to relieve the pain."

Newkirk shook his head. His jaw trembled and his teeth chattered. "I can't..."

"What do you feel? What can I do to help you?"

Newkirk's expression seemed to soften. "H-he trusted me... I told him to trust me and now he's dead..." He lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Why wasn't it me? Why did it have to be the colonel?"

Schultz put his hand on the bed, near Newkirk but without touching him. "Maybe," said he in a deep sigh, "because he didn't want to be in your place right now. He made sure that we were safe... You see? Dying is less painful than staying behind."

Newkirk winced in pain. He leaned back again. "What am I going to do now, Schultz? How am I gonna tell the lads-?"

"I can tell them for you, if you want to." Schultz smiled softly.

Newkirk shook his head. "Just be there with me when I tell them."

Schultz leaned forward again. "I will never leave you alone, Englander."

There was a knock on the door. It was Countess Elizabeth with a man in a suit.

"This is Doctor Ritz," said she. "He came to see you."

Newkirk was not pleased with the idea. He knew that his illness did not have a cure in a rational world, but a doctor could be the way to bring peace of mind to everyone else. "Schultz?"

"I won't move from here." The sergeant gave his chair to the doctor and stood next to the bed.

"Now, young man. Try to relax, I just want to check your vital signs, all right?" The doctor grinned kindly as he took Newkirk's wrist.

The first contact made the corporal scream. He yanked his arm away and crawled back. "This is not going to work!" He shielded himself with his right arm. "No, I can't!"

"He's in so much pain. We haven't been able to touch him at all," Schultz explained.

"What kind of pain? Where?" The doctor asked Newkirk.

"Sharp... deep... searing... everywhere..." Newkirk gasped.

"I need to check your heart and pulse. I'll try to do it as fast as possible," the doctor said, putting on his stethoscope.

Newkirk clenched his teeth anticipating the pain. He was reaching for Schultz's hand when the door opened abruptly.

"You can't get in!" Countess Elizabeth yelled at Spike who, dressed as a priest, had just come leaping into the room. "Who let you in the house?"

"You, last night, remember?" Spike grinned. "One invitation, that's all it takes. Didn't you read _Dracula_?

"But it's still daylight!" the lady protested.

"I left my blanket in the living room, hope you don't mind," he said. "I hate limits and boundaries."

"Spike?" Newkirk frowned. "How come-? I saw you d-"

"Die?" He rolled his eyes. "Immortal here," he shrugged. "Do we have to go through that every time we talk? Very few things can kill us."

"Are you a priest now?" Newkirk dropped his head backwards, against the headboard. He feared a straight answer from Spike. "Wait, I don't want to know."

"That's how you receive your best friend?" He raised his hand to show him a paper bag. "I brought you some tea."

Schultz narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You brought him tea?"

Spike glared. "It's a British thing, all right?" He looked at the doctor and the lady. "You mind, me and my friend would like some moment of privacy here."

"But-" the doctor protested.

"This is unacceptable." Countess Elizabeth turned to Newkirk. "Is this indeed your friend?"

"Acquaintance," Newkirk shrugged painfully. "Just give us a few minutes, I'll kick him out meself." He saw Schultz was about to say something. "It's all right, Schultzie. I'll be fine. Thank you."

"Don't worry about anything, son. I'll be right on the other side of the door." He passed in front of Spike and shot him a threat with his eyes.

The vampire smirked and tilted his head.

"You're not his favorite person." Newkirk winced in pain as he tried to get in a more comfortable position.

"I get that a lot," Spike said, moaning as he sat down.

"You're hurt." Newkirk stared at the vampire's face.

"Oh, I just broke my leg in three parts. It's already mending," he said. He put the bag on the table.

"Are you getting me drunk again?" Newkirk crossed his arms on his chest.

"Wouldn't be a bad idea, would be?" he snorted.

Newkirk saw a somber shadow in Spike's eyes. "Sorry about Drusilla... she was quite a-"

"She's not dead," he said almost as a protest. "Well, I mean, she's not gone."

"Spike, she was with the colonel and-"

"She's not gone!" Spike sprung off the chair and for a moment, Newkirk thought he was about to switch into his game face. Instead, the vampire sighed and paced around. "I would feel it... I'm sure that if she wasn't here anymore, I would feel it."

Newkirk nodded. The tension in the room caused spasms in his muscles and he moaned involuntarily. He took a deep breath. "You went away, why?"

Spike sat down again. "I've got things to do. People to see... time to think..." He opened the bag. "I brought you some tea."

Newkirk stared at the steaming glass. "It's blue," he wrinkled his nose.

"Tastes good, you should try it." Spike held the glass out to Newkirk.

Newkirk raised his hands for Spike to see the tremors. "Can't touch anything. It's just too painful."

Spike grinned. "All right, the plane is leaving the airport-"

"Spike!" Newkirk glared. "Don't start with your rubbish or I won't mind the pain of connecting me knuckles with your bloody nose."

Spike laughed. "Sorry mate, couldn't help hearing that giant Teddy bear feeding you some soup. You're so pathetic right now." He helped Newkirk to drink a sip. "Are you in pain?"

"Bloody hell! That tastes like garbage!" Newkirk covered his mouth. "You said it was good."

"I lied." Spike shrugged. "Hold the glass. You can do it."

Newkirk obeyed. The pain in his hands was more bearable now. "Where did you get those clothes?"

"I ate a priest." The straight face lasted no more than two seconds. He laughed at Newkirk's look of disgust. "Kidding! Blimey, you believe everything I say!" He laughed some more. "After I freed myself from under the debris, my uniform was a mess. I went to the nearest house, which was the priest's and grabbed some stuff."

"Black suits you," Newkirk chuckled and drank more tea.

"Yeah, it highlights the baby blue of my eyes... So I've been told. Vampire, no reflection in the mirror," he smiled and touched his cassock. "Good for walking in the streets, no one stops you to ask for your ID."

"Naturally." After a moment of silence, Newkirk changed his expression. "Why did you come back?"

The vampire leaned back on the chair. "I need your help to get Dru back."

"Back from where? There's nothing left in there." He put the glass on the side table. He leaned back and gasped.

"How do you feel, Newkirk?" Spike smirked. "How have you been since, let's say... last night?"

Newkirk shuddered and put his hand on his chest. "The red giant... Red Sun, he did something when he touched me, didn't he?"

"Well, yeah..." he said pushing the glass towards Newkirk again. "Those horsemen are very playful, you know? While White Dawn freezes you inside out, Red Sun does the opposite."

Newkirk paled in panic. "He fries you inside out?"

"That's a way to put it." Spike sighed. "Drink your tea, Peter."

"Am I going to-?"

"No, it's just another annoying thing about Baba Yaga, she doesn't take what she hasn't asked for. It would make you uncomfortably hot and achy for years to come unless-"

"Unless what-?"

"Unless you drink the famous Blue Rose tea." He picked up the glass. "To the last drop, mate." He watched Newkirk drink until the glass was empty. The corporal grimaced in disgust and Spike laughed. "It doesn't work if you throw it up."

Newkirk began to feel much better almost immediately. He stared at Spike and nodded. "Thank you, mate."

"Thank you? I broke my back seeking for those bloody roses. You've got no idea what I had to do for them," he chuckled. "I'm a soulless vampire, I don't do good deeds for nothing." He leaned over. "I need you to come with me. I just saved your life, mate. You can't deny me a favor."

"You really believe she's there, don't you?" Newkirk felt suddenly sleepy.

"She's there, Peter..."

Newkirk blinked. He was unable to lift his head anymore. "I can't keep me eyes open..."

"You need to sleep now," Spike helped him to lie down. "Think of what I said. I'll be back for you at dusk."

Newkirk did not hear anything else. He opened his eyes one last time and the vampire was gone.

tbc

* * *

_Certainly you didn't think I was going to keep you waiting for too long ;)_

_Only three chapters left... _

_See you soon._

_Thank you for keep on reading :)  
_


	25. Knock, knock, knock

_**25. Knock, knock, knock!**_

It was dark. It was cold. It was so quiet... He did not want to open his eyes to find that he was still in that place. He had been in and out of reality for a while. The pain was almost gone, but his despair was growing. He hated being confined. There should be a way out.

"_...And when I found the door was locked, I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked... And when I found the door was shut, I tried to turn the handle, but.*"_

"Drusilla?" Hogan pushed himself on his elbows, focusing slowly on the lady vampire.

She was sitting by the opposite wall next to Captain Grunwald. "Oh, hello, Colonel Hogan."

"Is he-?"

"What? Crazy? Angry? Hungry?" She shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't talk too much, though."

"I mean, dead. Is he dead?"

"Not yet," she grinned. "Shall I?"

"No... please, don't." Hogan sat up slowly and rubbed his head. "What happened?" he asked, as though he did not know.

"The ground opened under our feet and the sky closed." She looked up at the ceiling. "That's exactly how Mother Cecilia, from the nunnery, described the sinner's passing to hell."

"Great!" He began to raise but his right knee protested. He pushed some debris off his legs to find that the gravel had scratched the skin. Although it was very superficial, the lacerations had bled enough to stain the leg of his pants. Under any other circumstances, he would not have minded at all. It barely hurt. But Drusilla was too close and he began to wonder how long a vampire could go without drinking blood.

She was staring at the red spot on his knee when moaning came from the other side of the room. Hogan took that as a great distraction. He sprung up to his feet and dusted his clothes as well as he could.

"Someone else fell down with us." Hogan began to work his way through debris and furniture in the direction of the moaning. As he suspected, Mr. Jones had survived the blast too. "Well, Mr. Jones, how good to see you."

"Tremendous fall. I saw it all. I didn't pass out, not once. The door opened and we fell downstairs before part of the roof came down on us." He smiled nervously, as he searched first for his glasses and then, for his notebook. Everything was in order. "I'm ready. What's the next step?"

"Getting out of here, I guess." Hogan got up and looked around.

The room was not small, a circumstance for which he was really grateful. Being stuck with a Nazi, a vampire and a bureaucrat in a reduced space would have been simply unbearable. There were two exits, both blocked by concrete and broken beams. He remembered that there was a passage behind the altar in the church, so the other one had to lead to the cemetery. Hogan thought about their chances.

He knocked on the entrance to the church. The wall of debris did not look too thick. If there was anybody on the other side, they might hear any noise from inside. He went to the other door and it seemed to be in the same condition. He nodded.

"Mr. Jones, what do you know about Morse code?"

"Three dots, three slashes, three dots mean SOS."

"That's all you need to know." Hogan gave him a piece of wood. "Please, choose one door and start knocking. We might get some attention sometime."

"This is so much fun! What do you want me to do?" Drusilla grinned.

Hogan thought fast of something to get her out of the way. "Go and play with your cards."

Drusilla's eyes glowed as she took the tarot out of her velvet purse. She spread five cards to form a cross. She sighed, shook her head and finally, shrugged.

Hogan could not help getting interested. He sat close to her, trying to figure out what she was doing. After a moment, he could not wait any longer. "Well? Bad reception?"

She smirked and hit him with one of the cards. "Bad boy." She pointed at the cards. "They don't like things as they are. They believe us buried and gone..." Drusilla turned and smiled. "Shall we take advantage of that?"

Hogan felt her face coming too close to his. "Drusilla?"

"Mmm?"

"Stop smelling my neck."

She giggled. "I can't help it... The smell of living blood excites me... Yours is so young and... alive..."

For a moment, Hogan's mind went blank. He forgot about their predicament, about the egg and about the vampires. It took a great deal of will power to push the girl away as gently as he could.

"Hey!" He said with fake enthusiasm. "You know what would be really great? Why don't we call Newkirk and we have a party?"

"A party! Yes!" Drusilla clapped. "Marvelous idea!"

"Can you do it? Right now?"

Drusilla nodded as a obedient little girl. She sat up straight and closed her eyes.

"_Little boy blue, come blow your horn..."_

()o()o()

"_The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn..."_

Schultz turned to Newkirk's bed. The corporal was mumbling a nursery rhyme in his sleep. The sergeant thought it might be the fever, but Newkirk looked rather comfortable. He checked the young's man temperature with one hand on his cheek. It was warm but nothing alarming. Newkirk moved but did not wake up.

"Schlafen Sie gut, mein Freund," _Sleep well, my friend,_ Schultz shook his head. Poor Newkirk had suffered enough already. Losing a friend like Colonel Hogan was a bitter pill to swallow. The sergeant went back to his chair and his book. He was still getting comfortable when Newkirk opened his eyes and sat up. "Did you rest well?"

Newkirk did not answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, with his eyes on the door.

"Newkirk? Are you all right?" Schultz got closer.

"He's in trance." Spike emerged from the shadows. He smirked. "I knew my girl was still around."

"Where do you come from? Were you here all day?" Schultz did not hide his annoyance. Then, he turned to stop Newkirk from getting up. "Go back to bed, Newkirk."

"Leave him alone, he's got places to go." Spike crouched down. "C'mon, Newkirk, just follow her voice."

Schultz saw the corporal getting up and he pushed him back to the bed. "Oh, no. If he's going, I'll go too." He looked under the bed for something.

"What are you doing?"

"His boots. You don't want him to walk around barefoot, do you?" Schultz handed Spike one boot. "Here, make yourself useful."

Spike rolled his eyes as he tied the shoelaces of Newkirk's right boot.

Colonel Klink was in the hallway with Countess Elizabeth when Newkirk came out, followed by Schultz and Spike.

"Sergeant Schultz! Ich möchte eine Erklärung jetzt!"_I want an explanation right now!_

Behind him, Countess Elizabeth made a helpless gesture with her hands.

"The glamor is worn off," Spike shrugged when Schultz turned to him. "Only Dru can turn it on again."

"H-Herr Kommandant, I-"

"Was ist Corporal Newkirk tun draußen? Wo ist Colonel Hogan?" _What's Corporal Newkirk doing __out there? Where's Colonel Hogan?_ Klink looked around. He did not even remember the house or what he had been doing the night before. He stared at Spike. "Wer ist dieser Mann? ... Oh, es tut mir leid, Vater." _Who is this man?... Oh, I'm sorry, Vater._

"What, Father? Who?"

"V-Vater William doesn't speak German, Herr Kommandant."

Spike laughed. He suddenly remembered that he was in a priestly habit. "It's all right, my son." He raised his hand and pretended to make the sign of a cross that looked more like the letter X.

"I need to know what is going on!" Klink was almost jumping in anger.

Newkirk, oblivious to the commotion around him, was already gone down the street. Schultz rolled his eyes. "We need to go now."

"Go where?" Klink stared at Newkirk as he stepped past him. Spike followed the Englishman.

"You can stay here with _Charlie McCarthy.*"_ the vampire said to Schultz with a grin.

"Kommandant, please?" Schultz went after Spike and Newkirk. "I have to go."

Klink shook his head. "This is not acceptable!" He found himself talking to himself. He turned to Countess Elizabeth. "I'm sorry, Fraulein. I have to go after them too."

She nodded. After they were all gone, she shook her head. She did not understand half of what was happening but wished them good luck all the same.

()o()o()

"And then, we stayed in China during the Boxer Rebellion... When it got boring, we came back to the Continent, traveled to Russia by train... we got there right in time for the October Revolution. So exciting!" Drusilla strolled around. Sometimes, she walked; sometimes, she danced. The pattern was the same for a while until she stopped and shaded her eyes with her hand.

Hogan did not pay much attention. He had been knocking on the rocks for a while and now was taking a break. Mr. Jones was still working on the other exit but once in a while, he stopped to write something on his notebook. Hogan stayed in his corner, reading the diary that Newkirk had given him in the church. He had also been studying the room.

It was not a basement but a chamber, beautifully decorated. The walls were gold-plated with biblical paintings. Candles all around, so Hogan was able to light up the place without much trouble. Besides the usual ornaments, the chamber had been used as a storeroom for statues and other religious objects. There was also two doors, one that might go up to the back of the altar, and another on the opposite side. Hogan tried both but they were blocked.

He took his time to look at Drusilla.

"Something wrong, dear?" Mr. Jones asked kindly.

"The glow, hurts my eyes," she said.

"What glow?" Hogan frowned.

"That glow over there," she pointed at the wall.

Hogan took the book and walked closer. He compared some drawings on the diary with the ones on the wall. "What do you know? I think we have something here."

"Something? About what?" Mr. Jones was near but he could not see what Hogan was talking about.

"A clue? I love clues!" Drusilla sat on the ground. "What are we looking for, exactly?"

"The big prize on this scavenger's hunt." Hogan touched the wall."And you saw a glow here?"

"Right behind the wall, don't you see it? It's still there... So shiny." She frowned and touched the stone. She moaned and giggled.

"Do you feel anything?"

"The end of the world... So much power contained in such a little space... It tickles."

"The end of the world... and it tickles?" Mr. Jones chuckled. "Quite a peculiar girl, isn't she?"

"And she's not suffering from shell shock," Hogan grinned. He kept on reading the diary. Only now he began to understand. He got up and walked to the door opposite the exit to the altar. He knocked once and it sounded hollow. Hogan had a hunch about that door and kept knocking. Somehow, some way, somebody would listen.

()o()o()

Newkirk stopped at the ruins that had been a church only the day before. He stared at the altar and woke up.

"What the blazes?" He turned to see Schultz, Spike and Klink behind him. "What are you doing here?... How did I get here?... Where's here?"

"You came walking," Schultz stayed close to him. "Do you want to go back now?"

"Why am I here?" Newkirk remembered bits of his day. A horrifying memory of his worst nightmare. "Spike!" He glared at the vampire. "What was that bloody potion you gave me? What did you do to me this time?"

"They always blame it on the doctor," Spike said to Klink with a shake of his head. He walked forward. "You're alive, and walking. The pain is gone, innit? This little stroll wasn't my idea. Dru must be somewhere around calling for her knight in shining armor."

"Who's Dru?" Klink asked.

"Newkirk, she's here. And for what is worth, Hogan must be around too." Spike grabbed Newkirk's arm.

"Alive?" Newkirk frowned.

Spike chuckled. "Well, with Dru," he shrugged. "Who knows?"

"What is he talking about? What is everybody talking about?" Klink's patience reached its limit. "Schultz!"

The sergeant sighed and turned to him. "Kommandant, this has been a very strange weekend, and it's not over yet. I think that the best we can do is wait until it's over. I'll explain everything later, all right?"

Klink stared at him and then at Newkirk and Spike. "Colonel Hogan is under there?" He pointed at the rocks. The three men nodded at once. "You'll explain everything after we find him." Another trio of nods followed. "All right. Take him out. Do you have shovels?"

Schultz turned to the cemetery and saw the undertaker's storeroom. He nodded. "I'll bring the shovels."

"Er-," Spike came forward. "You may like to start digging in that mausoleum. I think there must be a door somewhere."

"And why should I believe you, vampire?" Schultz stared at him warily.

"Vampire?" Klink adjusted his monocle and turned to look at Spike.

"The name is Spike. And last night, when you kicked me out of the group, before I saved your pathetic German butt, I came here. There is a mausoleum and a doorway to the church. One wall fell down and it's blocking something. Maybe a door?"

Newkirk sighed and led the way. The mausoleum was half destroyed. There was a coffin and a fallen wall, just as Spike had said. The corporal took one of the two shovels and began to dig. He stopped and turned. "I know I'm the only POW here but any one care to help with this rubbish?"

Spike looked around. Klink was sitting on a broken pedestal shining his boots. Schultz handed the shovel to the vampire. He grinned.

"You don't expect a man of my age to do such a heavy job, do you?"

Spike clenched his jaw, but snatched the tool off Schultz's hands. "I could be your grandfather, sonny boy."

Klink stared at Spike. "He's not a priest, is he?"

"No, Kommandant, he isn't." Schultz sighed.

"I lost an entire day," he checked his watch. "What's going on, Schultz?"

"I don't know much about this, sir. They are looking for something that's been missing for over fifty years. It's dangerous and very valuable."

"A treasure?" Klink frowned. "And Hogan is trapped in there with it?"

"Apparently. I do hope so. I'm getting tired of looking for him everywhere."

"Hogan escaped?" Klink sprung up.

"Not exactly," Schultz said. He was too tired to care for his kommandant's alarming tone. "He was just looking for Newkirk-"

"Newkirk tried to escape? And where have I been all this time? I don't remember much of this trip." Klink shook his head.

After a few minutes of work, Newkirk felt dizzy and had to sit down. He put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Hey, sonny," Spike called Schultz and offered him the shovel. "Make yourself useful."

Schultz was fuming with rage, but he did not dare to antagonize the vampire. Besides, that was a good excuse to stay away from Klink's interrogatory.

Spike sat next to Newkirk and lit two cigarettes. He offered him one. "Tough day?"

Newkirk glared at him before accepting the smoke. "Blimey! You could've warned me about those bloody giants before I met them in person."

"I could've, couldn't I?" Spike chuckled. "But it wouldn't have been half the fun it was."

"You have a wicked sense of humor, you know that?" He inhaled and let the smoke came out very slowly. "It ain't over yet, is it?"

Spike smirked, making an effort not to look so excited. "There are three horsemen, mate."

Newkirk sighed. "Dark Midnight... and what's her gift?"

"Oh, she's been working you since day one," said he. "She plays with your fears. Haven't you noticed?"

"Shortly before we came here, she asked me what I feared the most..."

Spike saw him go pensive all of a sudden. "And what is it?" One look at Newkirk and he understood. "Death isn't the end of everything, Peter."

"Rubbish."

"Hey, I've been dead for many years, you know?"

Newkirk stared at the vampire. His skin was paler under the moonlight. Even so, there was not a wrinkle or flaw on him. "How old are you, Spike?"

"Me?" He laughed. "Counting from the year I was born, nearly ninety-two."

"Blimey," Newkirk's voice was low in energy. "Have you seen many friends die?"

Spike shook his head. Brooding was not his thing. He hated brooding people, they were such a waste of energy. "Is that your biggest fear? People die on you all the time, Peter. You'll die on someone some day too. That's what makes life so precious."

"Says the vampire?" Newkirk smiled.

"Hey, it's not like I have a choice in the matter." He shrugged. "But it's been fun, anyway."

"Everything has to be fun for you?" Newkirk shook his head and stood up. "Honestly, Spike." He walked towards the sergeant and grabbed a shovel.

()o()o()

"Dig here... dig there... dig here... dig there..."

Hogan rubbed his temple. Drusilla's chant had been going on for almost an hour. He did not dare to interrupt her for fear of being bitten. The lady vampire was as unpredictable as an earthquake.

"Drusilla?" He prepared a silly question to take her off her reverie.

Before he had to do that, Mr. Jones perceived a noise coming from one side of the room. He put his ear on the chattered door. "Someone is digging!"

"I told you: dig here... dig there..."

Hogan turned and knocked on the door as hard as he could.

"I hear something!" Schultz shouted.

Spike put his ear against a big rock. "Someone is knocking. Sounds like that rubbish with dots and dashes."

"Morse code." Newkirk felt so useless. Without his hearing, he could not read the code. "Blimey! I can't hear it!"

"How come? It's loud and clear." Klink came closer.

"Newkirk had an accident, he hurt his ears," Schultz told him.

"An accident? The other day with the storm!" Klink turned to the corporal. Newkirk frowned at the compassionate eyes.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Spike jumped in front of Newkirk. "Yeah, he lost his hearing in that accident and now he's deaf as a bat... so to speak."

"Spike, what are you talking about? I didn't-"

Spike elbowed Newkirk and glared.

Klink still had the memory of that incident very fresh on his mind, and he paled to see that there had been consequences. He felt really bad about it.

"Oh, never mind," Newkirk said. "We can't waste time talking. I need someone to listen to the beats and tell me-"

"I know Morse code," Klink said suddenly. Every pair of eyes set on him in disbelief. "What? I do. I was in communications on my first year at the Academy." He shrugged. "I think I still remember some of it."

Newkirk stared at Schultz and both shrugged.

The kommandant listened to the beats and answered. Then, he turned to them with a ingenious smile. "It's Colonel Hogan!"

Newkirk was just assimilating the news when he felt some giant lifting him off the ground. It was Schultz, happier than ever as he screamed. "He's alive, Newkirk! Colonel Hogan is alive!"

The corporal was happy too. He let Schultz vent all his emotions in a bear hug before daring to talk. "Oh, I knew he was all right," he laughed. He finally went back to earth both physically and mentally. The nightmare was over. He turned to Klink and nodded. "Just tell him that we're getting him out, all right, sir?"

Klink tapped on the rock and then, listened. "He doesn't want to come out, he wants you to get in."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Must be a cozy place."

"He says _Hurry up, Drusilla is getting frisky_" Klink frowned. "He has a woman in there?"

"Son of a b-!" Spike took a shovel and began to dig with renewed energy. "What are you waiting for? We've got to get them out of there now!"

Hogan sat back. "They're there." He smiled at Mr. Jones. "Klink is with them too."

"Oh, this is going to make a great story in London." The man laughed. He got up and began to move some rocks. A shot bounced on the concrete and hit the opposite wall. He turned around to see Captain Grunwald aiming his pistol at him.

"Gentlemen, stay away from the exit. We'll wait quietly."

tbc

* * *

* _**Humpty Dumpty**_**, **_Through the Looking Glass._

_*__**Charlie MacCarty,**__ a puppet, famous for it's own radio show. He wore a monocle :)_


	26. In riddles and affairs of death

_**26. **__**In riddles and affairs of death. **_

"A is for apple... but everybody knows that."

Hogan laughed. Certainly, the situation was tight, with a Gestapo captain holding his gun against them. However, how many chances were there to be face to face with a vampire? That girl, playful and careless, was old enough to be his grandmother. She danced to the beat of who knows what kind of drum but at least, she was happy in her own way. He had seen what she was capable of doing and although he did not fear her, he preferred to keep her at a reasonable distance.

Drusilla finished her chant and turned to him. "Knock, knock..."

Hogan finished with the diary and stared at her. He decided to play along. "Who's there?"

"Captain Grunwald and his tin soldiers, all in a row."

Hogan frowned. He looked at the captain, who seemed getting ready to open fire on whoever crossed the door first. "Grunwald?"

"Oh yeah, he's the one who set that nasty trap for Spike and me. Didn't you?" She smiled. "Naughty boy."

"You captured two vampires single handed?" Hogan could not help being amazed.

"I got lucky," Grunwald shrugged. "It was a good plan. Until we got here. I didn't count on those... verdammten RAF to tear this place apart. I could've gotten the egg and come back to the HQ in no time."

"What's in that egg that you want so much? Is it that valuable?" Hogan watched him glow with excitement.

"The end of the war. With us as the winners, of course," Grunwald said.

"Koshchei will crush you before you can tell him you have his soul." Drusilla grinned. "I hope to see that soon..."

"I should've read more about that legend before I came here." Mr. Jones took notes. "Those Russian stories are so rich in traditions..."

Hogan shook his head. All this time, he had been waiting to wake up from this weird dream. He was not on the fantastic side of life. It had taken him a while to accept Drusilla and Spike as real vampires. However, the more he thought about it the more everything that had been happening to Newkirk made sense. Under that light, his corporal was not that crazy after all.

"We'll find the way to neutralize the warlock. He's not a problem at all."

Drusilla chuckled. "Famous last words."

Hogan turned to the door. He could hear the shoveling getting closer. He moved slowly to the left and began to tap near the entrance. His only hope was that someone would listen and be prepared.

()o()o()

Klink kept an eye on the rocks, listening for the slightest noise. He heard Hogan's last message and frowned.

"What is it, Kommandant?" Schultz noticed his facial expression and got concerned. "Are they all right?"

"Yes, yes..." Klink tried to smile. He has just learned that there was an armed German officer on the other side. That he had Hogan and some others and he was waiting to take anyone else coming in. As a fellow officer himself, his loyalty was well established. He would stand aside and hope that the captain did not make the mistake of opening fire right away.

"We're almost there," Newkirk said while shoveling some debris aside.

Spike looked up at the sky and sighed. "What time is it?"

"You've got an appointment somewhere else?" Newkirk wiped some sweat off his forehead.

"No, but one second after sunrise, I'll turn into a pile of dust and I'll be as useful as... a pile of dust." He shrugged.

Schultz and Klink stared at Spike as he lifted and tossed heavy rocks with his bare hands and without breaking a sweat. The Germans were fascinated.

"Vampires are really strong, aren't they?" Schultz said.

"He would make a good addition to our cause." Klink smiled.

"Oh, you couldn't afford me, laddie." Spike grinned.

"Oh, I don't know, Kommandant. With all the commotion about Koshchei's soul, this war is getting very weird." Schultz could not imagine that besides warlocks and witches, they also had to deal with vampires.

"What about Koshchei's soul?" Klink was not puzzled about this. He knew the legend and did not like it to be associated with the war. "What does it have to do with us?"

"Well, that's what everybody has been looking for, sir. The egg where Koshchei hid his soul. It's probably in there. Some Gestapo officer wants it to use Koshchei against the Russian Army."

"Against his own people? Who's this officer? Is he trying to end the world tomorrow?" Klink shook his head. Maybe he did not have all the details but so far, everything was completely insane.

Spike nodded and turned to Newkirk. "One more rock and we'll be there." He removed it and dusted his hands. The door was right in front of them. "Now, we push and-"

"Wait!."

Newkirk saw that Klink was hesitating about something. Schultz was as puzzled as the corporal when Klink grabbed Newkirk by the arm and took him aside.

"Corporal Newkirk, you saved my life two days ago-"

"Oh, but, Colonel, it wasn't a-" Newkirk was impatient to see Hogan and make sure he was alive. He had no time for spontaneous displays of affection.

"Wait, I need to give you something and I need to tell you why I'm doing it." Klink took out his gun and put it in Newkirk's hands. "Listen, in the last message, Hogan mentioned a Gestapo officer holding them hostages. He's very likely to shoot at the first person coming in." He did not expect Newkirk to say anything just yet. "I'm not changing sides here, but if we're going to win this war, I want to be alive to enjoy it. That man doesn't know that he's playing with something more dangerous than fire. Koshchei is uncontrollable. No one must try to lure him on either side. Why you are involved in this, I don't know. But I trust that you'll be wiser than the officers and do the right thing."

Newkirk shuddered. What kind of weapon was in dispute here that could make a loyal German colonel like Klink betray his own? He took note of Klink's apprehension. Big differences aside, it reminded him of Baba Yaga's the other day in the forest. "Thank you, sir. I'll do me best. You and Schultz had better take cover, just in case."

Klink nodded. He would not feel better for blowing the whistle on one of his own, but at least, he would not feel worse for not doing it either. Schultz had been watching all that time and understood very well what the kommandant was trying to do.

Klink glared at him. "Not a single word."

"Kommandant, I see nothing, I hear nothing," the sergeant said with a tiny smile.

"I'll go first." Spike told Newkirk. "With that bad luck of yours, you're very likely to shoot yourself or Hogan."

Newkirk would not reply. If the vampire was trying to make a joke, he did not mind. He could miss the shot and end up starting something bigger involuntarily. He stayed behind Spike and waited.

The vampire pushed the door and it opened with a lot of noise. Spike stepped inside already guessing what was waiting for him. One clean shot on the chest and he fell down on his back. Newkirk opened fire. Although he aimed accurately as always, the bullet hit the wall behind Grunwald. Before Newkirk could regroup, or the captain aimed his gun at him, Schultz stepped forward and held Newkirk's arm.

"Clever, Sergeant. That will be used in your favor when we put you on trial." The captain went to the door and snatched the pistol from Newkirk. "Now, everybody inside, let's see what this fairy tale is about."

"Please, don't shoot!" Klink stepped forward. "I'm Colonel Wilhelm Klink, Luftwaffe."

"And what are you doing with these people?" Grunwald asked.

"I'm Commander Officer at Stalag Thirteen. I've come on the trail of two escaped prisoners." Klink pointed at Newkirk and Hogan.

Hogan grinned. "Impossible to lose you, Iron Eagle," he shook his head. "I told you so, Newkirk, didn't I?"

"You certainly did, sir. Next time we'll have to be faster."

"No next time," Klink said in a scolding tone. He placed himself next to Grunwald. "Keep an eye on them, Captain. They're the worst apples in the basket."

Newkirk did not mind Grunwald's gun. He could not help running towards Hogan. Touching him would be the only way for him to believe that his colonel was still alive.

Hogan laughed and hugged him kindly. "Nice to see you too, Corporal." He remembered Newkirk's precarious condition of the night before last and stared at him carefully. "Are you all right?"

Newkirk smiled. "I think I am, now that I know that you didn't die."

"Enough! Everybody sit down. I don't want you to try anything funny." Grunwald took a pointed piece of wood and went to Spike, still unconscious on the floor. He put the stake over the vampire's heart and turned to Drusilla. "Now, Fraulein, where is the vault?"

Drusilla glared at him. "I don't like you, Grunwald, and that's bad for you." She touched the wall on the spot where she had seen the light. "It's getting hot here." She smiled.

"All right, then. Start digging," Grunwald said to Mr. Jones and Schultz.

"Wait!" Hogan walked to the wall and Newkirk followed. "See this painting here? That's where Eichenholz hid his treasure. Or so he wrote in his diary. Now, it has to be open in the correct way. No do overs. If you fail the first time, there will be fireworks, so to speak. And we'll be sent to the Stalag Thirteen in heaven."

"Don't like the sound of that." Schultz shook his head. "Maybe we should leave it where it is and-"

Grunwald clicked his gun and put it against Klink's temple. "We won't go anywhere until that vault is opened."

"Captain, what are you doing? We're on the same side." Klink smiled nervously.

At that moment, Spike sat up and stretched. "You ruined a good shirt, Grunwald." He looked at him and laughed. "You're not starting the party without me, are you? Dru, luv, come and stay on the vampires' side."

She came and sat next to him. Spike put an arm around her shoulders. "Spike, that man has not been nice at all. He deserves to be punished."

"All in good time, dear, all in good time."

Grunwald rolled his eyes. "I'm surrounded by incompetents! Start digging!"

"Colonel Hogan?" Mr. Jones turned to him.

Hogan nodded, keeping his eyes on the Gestapo officer. "Newkirk, take a look."

Newkirk crouched down to examine the spot. "It's solid. We'll need a hammer or something heavy to break the concrete."

Spike came from behind. "It's that all you need?" He pushed Newkirk gently to one side. He clenched his left hand in a fist and punched the wall two times. The concrete crumbled like sand. Inside, there was a door with a lock framed in a circle of carved figures. "Cute. Now open it. Since we've come so far, I want to see what's in there."

Newkirk crouched down again and introduced the pick in the lock. The moment he touched the door, he felt a discharge and an invisible force that threw him a few feet away.

"That was fun! Do it again! Now the captain!" Drusilla clapped.

"What's going on?" The captain frowned.

"Oh, that's his opening act. He has been doing that for a while," Spike said with a shrug.

"Are you okay?" Hogan helped Newkirk to sit up. "Maybe we should forget-"

"Oh, no. These wankers have been messing with me head for the last time. I'm fed up with this." He walked back to the vault. "This is me job, that's what I do! That's what you brought me here for. If I can't do this anymore, I'll be-" He was about to turn the pick on the lock when Drusilla screamed.

"What is it now, luv?" Spike put his arm around her waist.

"I saw him dying. You must not force the lock." Her eyes opened wide and she looked as if she were going into a trance. "Round and round... round and round..."

"Round? Round what?" Newkirk was losing patience with riddles and tales.

Hogan frowned. He turned to the vault to examine the marks and drawings. "Could it be possible that instead of a key, this has a dial?"

Newkirk looked at the drawings circling the lock. "There's only way to know." Slowly, he placed his fingers on the circle. It got red hot. He drew back his hand in pain. "It's a dial indeed. But what's the combination?"

"You all look very professional but should I remind you that I'm the one with the gun?" Captain Grunwald was sitting on the debris and still aiming at Klink's head. "Quit the magic tricks and open that box now!"

Hogan smirked. "Do you want to do it yourself? Be my guest."

"Man with the gun here," Grunwald waved the weapon and grinned.

Hogan turned to Newkirk. "What's the plan? Can you do it?"

"Not without me ears." Newkirk narrowed his eyes. The drawings were familiar. "What are those?"

Schultz came closer and pointed at one drawing. "This looks like a tree."

"And that's a bunny," Drusilla said with a giggle.

"Hare, luv," Spike said. "This is the same old bloody riddle. There's the duck and the egg, and that thing over there has to be the island."

"Maybe, you have to turn the dial in sequence." Mr. Jones intervened.

"But from what direction?" Newkirk asked.

"Like in what was first, the egg or the duck?" Schultz said. "I'll vote for the egg first."

"The diary doesn't say anything about that." Hogan frowned. "It could be the island first."

"And we could stay here all day long discussing about that," Captain Grunwald protested. "Pick one!"

"Hey, me fingers are at stake here, I'd like to be sure of what I'm doing before they start burning." Newkirk stared at the group. "Now, any suggestion?"

"Take the logical order," Mr. Jones shrugged. "First the egg..."

Newkirk saw the dial and took a deep breath. He put his fingers on it and winced.

"Wait!" Hogan said suddenly. "She's been talking backwards."

"Me, who?" Drusilla grinned.

"Maybe that counts for something." Hogan stared at the dial. "That's a possibility."

Spike nodded. "It's your only chance, the island it is."

Newkirk's fingers grabbed the dial. He was determined not to let it go until the door was opened or they were all dead. The first two turns were bad, his hands hurt like never before, but he did not scream. By the time the dial turned to the hare, Newkirk could not stand it any longer.

"Colonel!" He screamed for help.

Hogan crouched down next to him and put his hand on Newkirk's. "Just three more turns. You can do it."

"Hare... duck... " Drusilla mumbled as the dial turned. "...egg... It's done."

Newkirk was done too. The pain was excruciating as he let go the dial. He sat back and stared at Hogan. The colonel clapped his arm and nodded. "Good job. Are you okay?"

Newkirk answered with a smile.

Grunwald pushed Mr. Jones aside. He got closer. "Open it!" He ordered Newkirk.

The corporal waited for Hogan's consent before pulling the handle. The door cracked and fell. Inside, there was a wooden box. He took it out.

"If it is another bloody diary I'll rip some Nazi heads," Spike whispered to Dru. "No offence meant," he said to Schultz.

"None taken," the sergeant smiled slightly. He did not consider himself a Nazi after all.

Newkirk opened the box. There was something inside. An oval object wrapped in a handkerchief with embroidered rabbits on its four corners. He was about to take it out when Hogan beat him to it.

He turned to the captain and tossed the egg to him. "It's yours, take it." He grinned at Newkirk's surprised face.

The egg fell down to the floor. The captain plunged to grab it but before he could unwrap it, the candles went off. Wind and moans filled the chamber. The echo was so loud that they had to cover their ears. All except Newkirk. He simply left the box on the floor and prepared for the coming of the third horseman.

Dark Midnight entered the chamber. Her dark clothes floated like smoke around her. She did not touch the ground as she hovered over the astonished mortals beneath her. She descended in front of the box. Half of her face was covered in a black veil, only her eyes were visible. She looked straight at Newkirk.

"Comrade Newkirk!." Her voice was soft but intense. "I warned you!" She lifted her hand. One finger descended slowly over Newkirk's face.

In one-step motion, Klink pulled Newkirk aside, leaving Grunwald next in line. The bony finger touched the captain on the forehead. No one made a sound. Newkirk went in shock as he realized how close he had been to being touched by the third horseman. His heart pounded as he remembered little by little how to breathe again.

It took Hogan a while to figure out what he had just seen. After a second that felt like an eternity, he dared to ask. "What the hell is that thing?"

"Dark Midnight, don't ask me to introduce you two, all right?" Newkirk gasped. Hogan tried to get up but Newkirk stopped him. "She's not done yet." He pointed at Grunwald.

The captain broke his silence with a scream of pain. He covered his eyes and fell down on his knees. Dark Midnight turned to Klink. She came to look at him nose to nose. Klink gulp and his monocle fell to the ground. She smiled. "Very clever, Kommandant..." She went back to the captain and pulled him to his feet.

"The punishment suits the punished... the punisher is pleased."

Grunwald stood up. He staggered, looking around with his eyes lost in another world. He ran towards the door and got lost in the night.

Newkirk could not take his eyes off Dark Midnight. As he got up, everything went dark. He realized they both were alone.

"_Now, what?" He asked her. "Have you found another torture to try on me?"_

"_You faced your fears courageously. Why are you so angry?"_

"_You left me deaf, made me believe that Colonel Hogan was dead! And those bloody brothers of yours almost killed me twice!" Newkirk shouted._

"_You defied Baba Yaga's orders, went against her wishes..." Dark Midnight descended to look at him eye to eye. "But she understands your motives, and she forgives you."_

"_What does that bloody mean? Are you giving me a medal for this?"_

"_You won, Newkirk. Koshchei's soul is yours."_

"_B-but why?" He felt suddenly abandoned._

"_There was a point we did not discuss about this quest. You kept trying, stubbornly despite adversity... No one had come this far... You deserve what you've got." She turned to the door. "It's a great responsibility, though. Make sure it is in good hands and handled wisely." The wind stopped and she was gone._

Newkirk tried to move. Some hands stopped him.

"It's all right, don't move yet."

He had not opened his eyes yet. Hogan's was the first familiar voice to reach his ears in days. Newkirk found himself lying on the floor. "I hear you..." he smiled.

Hogan smiled too. Those were the best news he had received since the ordeal began. "You fainted. Are you okay now?" He pulled him to a sitting position. The corporal was still weak. "I get you," he said placing Newkirk's head on his shoulder.

"T-the captain?"

"He's gone."

"The wanker ran away. But no worries, he's crazy as a goat now." Spike grinned, crouching next to them. "And this time there's no warm whiskey or blue rose tea that can help him."

Hogan turned to Klink and nodded. "That was a smart move, Colonel Klink."

"It was, wasn't it?" The kommandant was still in shock but managed to smile. He came closer to offer Newkirk his hand. "I think now we're really even. I think I just bought my ticket to the Russian Front."

Newkirk got up with his help and Hogan's.

"Why? I didn't see what you did." Hogan shrugged. "How about you, Newkirk?"

"I was unconscious, remember?" He turned to Schultz, coming behind Klink. "Schultz?"

"I see nothing," the sergeant smiled. He was just happy to see Newkirk back to his old self.

They turned to Spike and Drusilla. There was a brief pause of silence. Then, Spike sighed and shrugged. "Dead men tell no tales."

Schultz chuckled before going back to Newkirk. He stared at him with a frown. "Are you all right, Newkirk?"

The corporal walked towards him. "It's over, for good, this time."

The sergeant covered his mouth with one hand. "Can you hear me?"

Newkirk laughed. "Yes, I can hear you."

Schultz hugged him and lifted him off the ground. "So good to hear that!" He turned to Hogan, still with Newkirk in his arms. "Can we go home now?"

"I'm the one giving orders here," Klink said. Then, he smiled. "And I say that it's time to go back home."

Hogan looked at him. "Colonel Klink-"

"Colonel Hogan, I won't ask you what's been going on here. That thing in the vault is not good for any side in this war. The farther it is from all of us, the better."

"Apparently, that's the general feeling," Hogan nodded.

"I suppose, the awards ceremony has been canceled?"

Hogan shrugged. "Mysterious ways, sir... that's all I can say about that."

Klink sighed. "We'll go back to the Stalag and forget about this incident. I don't want to know more than necessary. Schultz, gather the prisoners and let's get out of this place."

Newkirk listened and nodded. He waited for Hogan to pick up the egg. The colonel stared at the handkerchief on the floor. There was nothing under it. He turned around. "Funny," he said.

"What is it, sir?" Newkirk came closer.

"The egg is gone."

Spike grinned. "You misplaced it already? So much for taking care of the bloody thing, eh?"

"Maybe you have it. Or Drusilla," Newkirk said suspiciously.

"We can't touch it," Spike said with a mischievous smile.

"We would just burst in flames. Bad for the skin," she shrugged. Then, she turned to Spike. "Are we going now? I've become bored with this place. Let's go back to Paris!"

"With Lucien? Not a chance in hell. We're going back to London and play with the refugees of the _Tube.*_" Spike took her by the hand. "Hey, Newkirk, here have this." He tossed him a small package he was carrying in his coat. "It's blue rose tea. Give it to Baba Yaga next time you see her. She loves it, she might ease things on you."

Newkirk chuckled. "I don't plan to get that close to her anymore."

"It was a real pleasure to work with you, Peter Newkirk." Spike held out his hand. "Come with us, become a vampire. You'll have the time of your life... literally."

Newkirk laughed. "Not bloody likely, Spike... Your ruddy world is too intense for me taste."

Drusilla came closer and kissed him on the lips. The joke was on Spike when he saw them locked in an endless hug. "Hey," he pulled Drusilla away. "Stay away from my girl, you twit!"

Newkirk laughed. "Oh, bugger off! Have a nice life."

"Not life. Unlife." Spike smirked. "Ta ta."

"Bye, my Enchanter of Delusion..." Drusilla turned to Hogan and blew him a kiss. "See you around, Ace of Swords."

Hogan grinned at her and waved goodbye. Then, he shrugged at Spike when their eyes met. Spike just rolled his eyes and pulled Drusilla out of that place.

As Newkirk saw them leave, things began to come back to normal. The vampires were gone, strolling carelessly among the graves. In spite of everything else, he knew they would be missed.

Hogan gave up. "All right, I've looked everywhere, the egg is not here."

"Maybe that lady in black took it with her." Mr. Jones frowned. "They were after it all the time."

"Oh, well, we can't stay here." Hogan made sure that everybody left the chamber. The air outside was light and fresh. He took a deep breath. "Let's hope that wherever it is, it's safe."

"I second that." Newkirk nodded.

The night covered their steps back to the manor. Countess Elizabeth welcomed them back and listened to their ordeal with great attention. Newkirk moved away from the group and spent the rest of the night reading about Russian Folktales. Once in a while he would listen to the laughter and the talking. The sound filled his ears and made him happy.

tbc

* * *

* _The Tube: the subway. During WWII, the subways in London were used as shelters against air raids._

_Oh, well. Just one more chapter to wrap up the story. I do enjoy reading your reviews, don't stop yet :)  
_


	27. When the battle's lost and won

_Readers! This is the last chapter. Please, let a review, it's never too late :)_

* * *

_**27. When the battle's lost and won**_

Schultz was so happy with the turn of events that he did not even feel the road. He whistled while he drove, told some jokes and even sang old Bavarian songs. The kommandant was also happy and relaxed as he had not been in years. He had had the time of his life, although he did not remember more than bits of the trip. He was in such a good mood that he did not mind giving Mr. Jones a ride to Hammelburg. Mr. Jones was very grateful for not having to endure another trip inside the staff car trunk.

"I don't want to know who that man is," said Klink to Hogan when Mr. Jones got down in the city. "Only answer this. Is he a spy?"

"Not really," Hogan shrugged.

"Hogan, this is the last time will talk about this. I don't need to know why or how you got involved in all this mess but it's over. Right?" Klink stared at him warily. "No more vampires, witches or cursed soul holders?"

"Colonel Klink, you have my word. I can't wait to go back to our good old routine in Stalag thirteen." Hogan grinned to give the colonel some peace of mind.

Schultz did not say anything when Newkirk helped Mr. Jones to get into the trunk. After what they had been through together, he had some kind of affection for the little man.

The last kilometers were a little long for Newkirk and Hogan. After this brief encounter with the unknown worlds, sabotage and espionage missions would feel like a walk in the park. And Klink promised never to mention Nuremberg, or anything related to Koshchei's soul again in his life. They just wanted to go back to camp without any further incident.

The welcoming was brief. LeBeau picked up the car to take it to the motor pool and put Mr. Jones safely underground. Carter and Kinch had to wait in the barracks as Captain Grubber had stipulated at roll call. The minute he entered, Hogan knew that something else was wrong.

"We have problems. Remember the submarine? We received a report that they haven't been able to pick up the agents yet. There has been an increase of patrols in the area. They haven't been spotted, but the agents are surrounded at the security house, two miles from the rendezvous point," Kinch said.

"Oh, that's tough," Newkirk frowned.

"Yeah, all those people stranded because of this beautiful weather." Carter sighed. "It's usually the other way around."

"Well, if they try to stroll in the mountains with this moonlight, they'll be more vulnerable than sitting ducks," Kinch said.

"Let's go downstairs and see what else we can do for them." Hogan headed to the tunnel trap door with Kinch.

Newkirk and Carter were about to follow them when LeBeau came in with Schultz.

"He followed me here," the Frenchman said, taking a seat at the table.

"What is it, Schultzie? You want to make sure we're all still here?" Carter smiled.

"I know you're here. I just want to talk with Newkirk. Outside," he said.

"Sure, what can I do you for, Schultz?" Newkirk closed the door behind him.

"Newkirk, where's Koshchei's soul?"

"Is this a tricky question? You're playing games now, aren't you?" Newkirk grinned. "I'd say in the egg, where else would it be?"

"And where's the egg now?" Schultz stared at Newkirk's look of innocence and rolled his eyes. "Come on, Englander. I know you put it in my coat when I hugged you at the mausoleum."

"What? You couldn't feel it, could you?" Newkirk frowned. Was he losing his touch after all that adventure?

"No, I didn't feel it but that's how you work all the time." Schultz was visibly upset. "I felt the thing in my pocket when we got to the manor. I didn't check because I didn't want to know."

"No surprises there."

"Then, I didn't feel it anymore. You took it, Newkirk! Where is it?"

"I didn't take anything, all right?" Newkirk shrugged. "It wasn't there, was it? Did you see it at any time? No, why? Because it wasn't there at all. It was a trick, all right?" He lowered his tone. "But if it was there at anytime, I assure you that now it's where it is supposed to be. No more, no less. Trust me on this one, all right?"

Schultz could see sincerity in Newkirk's eyes. The young man would not disappoint him. "I trust you with my life, Newkirk, and the rest of the world's."

Those words weighed heavily on Newkirk. Still, he managed to smile. "See you later, Schultzie." He patted the sergeant's arm and went back to the barrack.

()o()o()

The wind blew from the north. The branches moaned and cried. Newkirk adjusted the collar of his coat as he walked through the forest. He had been very careful to come out without being noticed. Hogan and Kinch were too busy monitoring the submarine situation and the others were fast asleep. As he reached a clearing in the forest, he heard steps behind him and coming closer. He took his knife, the only weapon he had taken with him, and waited behind some bushes.

"He came this way," LeBeau said.

"But I saw his footprints going that way," Carter insisted. "I've been a pathfinder before, Louie, my instinct never fails."

"Ah oui? Did you hear him leaving the barrack? Or going down the tunnel? No? Because you were snoring!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. More of that and he would have to invite the patrols to come along too. He walked behind them.

"Gentlemen, may I know why you are following me?"

"Ha! I told you he was coming this way." LeBeau smiled triumphantly.

"Newkirk! Are you sleepwalking again? At midnight?"

"I'm not sleepwalking, and if I was, I couldn't tell you, could I? I've got things to do and can't do them in broad daylight." Newkirk resumed his walk. "This way, please."

"Aren't you going to ask us to get back?" Carter frowned. "He must be dreaming. LeBeau, grab his arm-"

Newkirk pushed them aside. "Bugger off, what's the idea?" He composed himself. "I've got to go this way."

They walked with him for a while. "Aren't you going to go away?" LeBeau asked this time.

"No need, you'd follow me anyways." He made a turn. "It doesn't matter, actually. Soon, I'll lost you."

"What are you talking about? We're right here with you-" Carter's voice turned off abruptly.

As Newkirk had predicted, after a couple of turns, he was alone again. He kept walking until the hut with chicken legs appeared before his eyes. His heart pounded harder than the first time because now he knew that this was not a dream.

He allowed the hut to dance around for another minute. Then, he remembered the stories he had been reading back in the manor and breathed deeply.

"Hut, oh Hut... turn your back to the woods and your front to me!" He said.

Immediately, the hut retracted its legs and settled down on the ground. One door formed in front and opened. One window opened on the left.

"_Were you sent to me or do you come of your own free will?" _the voice came from everywhere.

Newkirk lowered his head. "I come of my own free will, please, let me speak."

The laments and moaning reached high pitch levels as the path to the house lighted up at the entrance of the witch. This time, the woman walked towards him. Leaves whirled around and spirits began to take shape on each side of the place. Newkirk had to set his feet firmly on the ground to stop his body from shaking. He could not help the cold fear him that gripped inside as he saw the witch for the first time as she really was.

She was ugly. Books and stories did not do justice to her ugliness. Her nose was long and curved and her body was as thin as a corpse. No one would have said that she fed on human flesh. As she got closer, Newkirk's shaking became more noticeable. That witch was much taller than the small little lady he had seen the first time.

"You stole Koshchei's soul. You fought for it. You earned it, now it's yours... I don't have more to do in the matter." She did not move her lips but her eyes looked angry.

Newkirk took the pack of blue rose tea and offered it to her. "I brought you a present, _Babushka.*_"

She stopped an inch from Newkirk's face. He could smell vanilla and cinnamon, as though the witch had been baking a cake. He also saw her smiling. Not a nice sight at all. Toothless and with lynx eyes, her face could not transmit real heartwarming emotions. But the present was priceless and she was happy. With all her power, she could not stop herself from aging years every time she asked a question. Newkirk had read about that and how the blue rose tea reversed that effect. Spike was right: with that present, he had made the witch his friend.

"Now I can ask as many questions as I like without aging a day." She stared at him. "Tell, me my _vnuk_,* is Koshchei's soul in a good place? Is it safe night and day from wrong and evil?"

"That, Babushka, is something only you can answer." Newkirk smiled as he reached into his pocket for a small bundle.

Baba Yaga took the handkerchief and unwrapped the egg. This was a beautiful piece of jewelry made in bloodstone, the martyr's gem. It had scales of gold with a beautiful swan on top of it. Certainly, a piece that would have paid a lot in the black market, Newkirk thought. Although the surprise this Faberge egg carried was too much for anyone to handle.

"I searched for the best place and the best person to guard it, and found no one but you, my lady. It's in your hands now."

The witch put the egg in her ragged apron pocket. She seemed to hesitate before asking the next question. "What can I give you, my vnuk? What do you want in exchange? Ask and I'll give you anything..." her eyes shone with curiosity. "Do you want gold or silver? Maybe a new life... I can show you your future or... maybe you want to know how this war is going to end."

Newkirk was overwhelmed by the wish list. He wanted everything... or nothing. But the last offer was extremely tempting. What soldier would not like to know about the future of the war? He almost rushed to accept but then, he stopped. What if they were about to lose?... Would he quit fighting? How would he convince the others of the uselessness of their crusade? What if they were about to win?... Would he quit fighting?... Why should they go on risking their lives if the victory was already at hand?...

Did he actually want to know about the future? If he had known what was waiting for him at Nuremberg, he might not have gone at all. Then, everything would have been so different.

"No, thanks," he respectfully declined. "I think that things are the way they have to be right now."

"There must be something you need but you can't see yet." She reached up to touch his forehead. "Go home, vnuk. Have a prosperous life. Our paths might not cross again with such a cheerful ending."

()o()o()

Newkirk found Carter and LeBeau still arguing about the road that he had taken. To them, time had moved more slowly; it had not been but a couple of minutes.

"Stop playing around, Newkirk. Where are you going at this hour?" Carter began to feel frustrated.

"Andrew, everything is completely well, I tell you." He smiled widely.

"But you keep running from us, Newkirk. What's wrong?" LeBeau echoed Carter's resentment. They were supposed to be Newkirk's best friends.

"LeBeau, Carter," the Englishman said, placing himself between them to put his arms around both of them, "I'll tell you a story. But you have to promise not to ask questions until I finish."

"Why not?"

"Carter, me friend, asking so many questions takes years from your life..."

()o()o()

They entered through the emergency exit, thinking to find Hogan, Mr Jones and Kinch still at the radio. It was empty. They came upstairs. The colonel and the sergeant had opened one of LeBeau's bottles of wine.

"Where have you three been? Mushroom picking is not until Friday," Hogan scolded them.

"We went to the forest for a walk," Carter said with a grin.

Newkirk sat quietly, avoiding eye contact with Hogan. LeBeau brought to the table a loaf of fresh bread that he had been baking for the reunion. He sat at the table and poured some wine.

"What are we celebrating?" he asked.

"The latest on the submarine." Kinch smiled. "Right after we talked to them, they called us back. Some thick mist covered the mountains and the security house. The group could come out undetected and went down to the coast. They are in the submarine and on their way to London as we speak."

"Marvelous news, isn't it?" Mr. Jones said, busily writing on his notebook.

Carter and LeBeau cheered. Newkirk frowned.

"When did that happen?"

"A few minutes ago. It was a miracle. That change in the weather was completely unexpected." Kinch drank to that.

"A miracle indeed," Hogan said. He stared at Newkirk warily. "But weirder things have been happening around, right, Newkirk? Like the mysterious disappearance of that egg."

"Indeed, sir... Mysterious." He smiled. Baba Yaga had finally found the way to reciprocate the favor. _Than you, Babushka._

"How do you feel, Corporal Newkirk?"

Mr. Jones' question took him out of base. He tilted his head. "Right as rain, why?"

"A personal question, I'm not taking my report that far." Mr. Jones smiled. "I think that you, gentlemen are doing an amazing job so far. Do you take cases like this often?"

"Not in a million years," Hogan chuckled.

"But the egg situation?" Carter asked. "Don't you have to report on that?"

"I'm classifying the information. Who would believe the truth, anyway? I'll just say that the lead was false or something like that. Easy fix."

"But you keep writing on that bloody notebook."

"Oh, these are notes for my novel."

"A novel?" LeBeau narrowed his eyes warily.

"Sure, once the war is over, I'll declassify the case and publish a book. Fiction novel." He laughed at their stares. "Don't worry, I'll change names and some of the events. Maybe there'll be a movie following up."

"A movie?" Carter smiled widely.

"Before Carter starts asking for James Stewart to play his role, what are you going to do with the other case?" Hogan asked. "Newkirk's situation is still uncertain."

"What? What situation?" Newkirk stared at Hogan and then at Mr. Jones.

The inspector smiled and shook his head. "It's already forgotten. This young man is an extraordinary element in your team. There's nothing wrong with him." He picked up his notebook and pen. "If you excuse me, I'd like to read a little before going to bed. Gentlemen," he bowed.

"Nothing wrong with me? Was there something wrong with me before? What is he talking about?" Newkirk saw the man going downstairs. "Colonel!"

"Oh, give it a rest, Newkirk. You're out of the hook, anyway." Kinch poured some wine and passed him the glass.

"Out of what ruddy hook?" Newkirk sighed and had a sip.

"So, what happened with the egg?" LeBeau asked as an attempt to change the subject.

"It vanished," Hogan shrugged. "Right, Enchanter of Delusion?"

Newkirk felt the wine taking the wrong turn into his nose. He coughed. "Right, sir," he mumbled avoiding the colonel's eyes.

"Although I don't mind not having that thing in my hands at all. It would be good to know that it's in the right hands." Hogan tasted the two-day old wine. "Taking care of it must be a huge responsibility for an ordinary man."

"Oh, yeah... certainly." Newkirk felt a load lifting slowly off his shoulders. "I'm sure it got to the right hands, sir."

"Why do you say it's a responsibility?" Kinch asked. "What could that little thing do?"

Hogan took the diary out of his pocket. "Otto Eichenholz discovered the egg and its story while traveling around the country. He studied the problem from different angles and concluded that it was not a good idea to share so much power with any living creature. That's why he kept it concealed as much as he could. After his death, the secret passed down to his brother who shortly before dying put it inside the wall of his church. He didn't reckon that, years later, one bomb would fall on the building leaving the chamber exposed. Although Otto didn't write about the power of the object, he quoted from an ancient book something that describes pretty much the range of damage that little thing could do." Hogan opened the book on the first page and read aloud:

_I am death, the mighty destroyer of the world, out to destroy. Even without your participation all the warriors standing arrayed in the opposing armies shall cease to exist.*_

The end

* * *

*_**Babushka: **__grandmother_

_*__**vnuk: **__grandson_

*_**Bhagavad Gita**_**: **_chapter 11, 32 (J. Robert Oppenheimer quote part of it right after watching the effects of the first test of the atomic bomb.)_

_**A little note:** Thank you for keeping coming to read this story. I was a little long and maybe tiring in some ways. But for the reviews, I suppose you enjoyed it. I'm not stepping back from the writing yet. There is a story that I'm co-writing with Marie1964, **Layers of Reality**. Give it a try, maybe you'll like it too. ;)_


End file.
